Along a coastal road somewhere south of the Yangtze River, a detachment of soldiers, each of them armed with a halberd, was escorting a line of seven prison carts, trudging northwards in the teeth of a bitter wind. In each of the first three carts a single male prisoner was caged, identifiable by his dress as a member of the scholar class. One was a white-haired old man. The other two were men of middle years. The four rear carts were occupied by women, the last of them by a young mother holding a baby girl at her breast. The little girl was crying in a continuous wail which her mother's gentle words of comfort were powerless to console. One of the soldiers marching alongside, irritated by the baby's crying, aimed a mighty kick at the cart. 'Stop it! Shut up! Or I'll really give you something to cry about!' The baby, startled by this sudden violence, cried even louder.

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