By the time he returned home, it was already night. As Shen Hao passed the ward gate, he saw several governmental officials on night patrol kicking and beating a few raggedly dressed people. When the Guard went up to inquire, he learned they were refugees. Even Ci'an Hall could barely take them in these days; there were more of them in every major city of Man Jingxi than ever before.
If a refugee was willing to work, that was fine—some way to make a living could always be found. But some were just useless, good-for-nothing, drifting about all day long, relying on congee relief from Ci'an Hall to get by. Such refugees were most despised by others.
"Were these the ones who stole from that family earlier?"
"I'm not sure. The governmental officials are investigating. If you're worried, we can take over the case."
"Forget it. Best not to meddle in local matters. Let's go back."
