Xia Yi squatted by the field, stewing in silent anger. Before, when he used these old things, he was not bothered because he was a victor; living in Songhua Alley filled him with pride, not frustration or regret.
But now, he had been driven back, which was already humiliating enough. On top of that, Zhou Man had rummaged through every nook and cranny of his house.
Even the bed he slept on was installed by them. The mere thought of this made him feel nauseated, like swallowing a piece of meat wrapped in a fly.
Sputtering it out felt like a waste, but not doing so was unbearably suffocating.
Xia Yi clutched his head in discomfort, only to find there was more trouble brewing.
The young men who were driven away were naturally not pleased. They had worked all day, plastering walls, repairing roofs, and cleaning inside and out. Is it too much to ask for a thank you, or even just a meal?
Instead, they were scolded and then chased out.
