Night fell.
Lu Yuan sat quietly in the pavilion, leisurely sipping tea.
Bao Shu sat on the soft carpet, her tiny hands tugging fiercely at his robe, her face twisting in frustration.
A Jinyi Guard appeared outside the curtain, cupped his hands, and reported, "My lord, the Lu Family has left."
Lu Yuan asked, "How many strokes did they endure?"
The Jinyi Guard replied, "Two hundred and ten strokes."
Lu Yuan said with absolute fairness, "Remember the remaining ninety strokes—once he recovers, continue the punishment."
The guard clasped his hands. "Understood!"
Lu Yuan swirled the tea in his cup nonchalantly. "Hmph, just two hundred and ten strokes, and the Lu Family produced such a coward!"
...A coward—that wasn't the right usage.
The Jinyi Guard awkwardly added, "In the army, few can endure even a hundred strokes. Two hundred strokes are already exceedingly rare—those who can last three hundred, well, in the entire world, only…"
