The Opera Stage was over one meter tall; Qiao Xiaomai stood atop it, squinting as she surveyed the grand entrance of the Yu Residence.
As the head of the civil and military officials, the Yu Residence indeed had an imposing air; even the gate was finely carved with patterns, and the two characters for "Yu Residence" on the signboard were written in gold powder, reflecting a brilliant light in the sun.
Now, the gates of the Yu Residence were tightly shut, as if unaware of the commotion at their doorstep. Qiao Xiaomai curled the corners of her mouth and raised her voice, "Is Minister Yu at home? On the twenty-eighth of the twelfth lunar month, your grandson injured my father at Jiwei Residence, and I, Qiao Xiaomai, am here on behalf of my father to demand an explanation."
"If you refuse to open the gates, then I may have to force my way in."
With these words, the gates of the Yu Residence remained tightly closed, without any sign of movement.