Li Shiyi uncrossed her long legs, and hurriedly followed after.  The street was incredibly chilly, the small shops’ doors closed tightly; the road ahead was dim and misty, the depths of night revealing heavy flagstones, and intermittently, there was the sound of bicycle bells. Yun Niang, lifting up her skirt, got into a rickshaw, which drove joltingly towards the outside of the city. Li Shiyi, without the slightest hesitation, called a rickshaw along with Song Shijiu, and, gazing forwards, said quietly, “Follow at a distance.” Her hand rested casually on the hand-rest at the side, which was ice-cold and gave off the scent of rust, and she paused, then grasped it a bit more firmly. The darkness was always able to magnify one’s true, inferior nature, and in the past, it was the rickshaw drivers, most in touch with the common people, who were exhausted by periods of misery and oppression, the strength of their legs weakening and their motions growing tired, terrifying people as if the...