Returning to Yingge Court, the sky had already turned completely dark. The lantern-holding attendant Xiao Li was leaning anxiously by the doorway, and when he saw Chu Qiao return, he was overjoyed. He scurried forward cheerfully and said with a smile, "Miss, you're finally back."
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow. "Has something happened?"
Xiao Li replied, "Nothing major. It's just that earlier, the Crown Prince returned and asked about you. When he heard you had gone out, he took A Jing with him to look for you."
"Oh," Chu Qiao nodded. "How long have they been gone?"
"About two hours," Xiao Li answered while diligently holding the lantern ahead. Suddenly noticing Chu Qiao intended to head toward Lantian Pavilion, he immediately blocked her path and said, "Miss, the servants are clearing snow over at Lantian Pavilion. Let's go this way instead."
Chu Qiao paused, slowly raising her head to cast a faint glance at Xiao Li, remaining silent and still.
Xiao Li looked awkward, mumbling for a moment before murmuring, "The path over there isn't easy to walk."
The young woman's expression darkened as she pushed aside Xiao Li's arm and strode forward. Just as she reached the arched gate, she heard a delicate, weak female voice softly speaking, accompanied by the sounds of servants moving boxes and cabinets.
The young woman halted at the arched gate, her face calm as she stood silently for a long while before finally speaking in a low voice, "Who sent them?"
"Minister Ji Wenting, the Inspector of Northwest Waterways."
Chu Qiao frowned and said sternly, "Him again."
Chu Qiao's tone was harsh, and Xiao Li fell silent in fear, watching her anxiously, afraid she would indeed ignore the opposition and walk straight in.
With a swish, Chu Qiao abruptly turned around and headed toward her own room. As she walked, she said sternly, "Tell them all to keep quiet and not disturb my rest."
Xiao Li stared blankly in the direction Chu Qiao had disappeared, his mind struggling to process this. The distance to Chu Qiao's quarters was quite far—even if someone were to shout loudly, it likely wouldn't be heard from there.
During dinner, they sent someone to call for her twice, but Chu Qiao never appeared. The Heir of Yanbei sighed on the surface, but inwardly felt a hint of smug satisfaction. Just as he was about to go see her himself, he suddenly saw Chu Qiao walk in dressed in white, still in her male attire, as if she hadn't changed since returning.
Yan Xun was taken aback and asked, "A Chu, what were you doing just now?"
Chu Qiao lifted her head, her expression calm. "Reviewing the Bianyang canal spring flood draft. There are a few issues I'd like to discuss with you."
A faint sense of disappointment washed over Yan Xun as he sat down. "Let's eat first."
"Oh," Chu Qiao nodded. "I really am a bit hungry."
The woman sat down gracefully and ate with composure. Yan Xun frowned slightly. Seeing that Chu Qiao showed no intention of speaking and displayed no signs of anger or abnormality, he felt inwardly troubled, a wave of irritation rising within him.
Outside, the cold moon shone brightly, stars were sparse, and the snowstorm that had lasted all day finally ceased.
"The Bianyang spring transport must be expedited. Now that the canal governor there has been replaced, water transport isn't running smoothly. We don't have much time—we need to make preparations."Setting down her chopsticks, the woman spoke in a cool tone as she pulled out a sheet of white paper from her sleeve, glancing at it while reporting: "The Salt Commissioner of Licheng assumed office last month. The new official is Wei Yan, a collateral descendant of the Wei Clan. After taking office, Lord Wei reorganized the salt transport system in Licheng, leaving the salt merchants anxious. Miss Yu wrote to warn us to be cautious of shifting loyalties, as Licheng affects both Shangdang and Pengze passes. These wealthy households could play a crucial role at critical moments."
"Also, we need someone to replace the position in Xihua. I'm considering He Qi, a follower of Miss Yu. What do you think?"
Yan Xun nodded: "Handle it as you see fit."
Noticing Yan Xun's listlessness, Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow and asked sharply: "Very tired?"
The man showed no interest in discussing matters, replying indifferently: "It's fine."
"Then rest first." Chu Qiao stood up. "The Crown Prince of Bian Tang is about to arrive in the capital. The Xia King's birthday approaches, and envoys from Huai Song are also on their way. Zhenhuang is about to become lively. Everything else must be set aside for now."
Yan Xun remained silent as Chu Qiao turned and walked out. The young maid Lü Liu hurried after her to drape an outer robe over her shoulders, and their figures soon disappeared down the long corridor.
Yan Xun sighed softly, leaning back in his chair and gently massaging his temples.
Throughout the day—processing secretly delivered messages from the guild, dealing with court officials who had become markedly more cordial and attentive since the last hunting expedition, and strategizing against royal nobles—none had been as draining as this brief moment just now.
"A Jing," the nobleman in brocade robes spoke calmly, "send away those women sent by Ji Wenting."
"Young Master?" A Jing was startled. "Wasn't the plan to put on a show to deceive the nobles? Doing this might disappoint Ji Wenting."
Yan Xun shook his head with a sigh: "Those who can be fooled by such crude methods aren't worth fearing. Those who deserve attention won't be deceived by this act. It's better to use this to win hearts and grant a favor."
"Moreover," Yan Xun's next words were mumbled, and A Jing didn't catch them clearly. He only saw Yan Xun's lips move slightly before closing his eyes: Compared to A Chu's trust, what does Ji Wenting matter?
Though she might not necessarily care.
Yan Xun hypnotically comforted himself: A Chu is, after all, still just a child.
Even though she had never behaved like one.
"Young Master," Lü Liu hurried back cheerfully, handing over a large stack of documents. "These were just reviewed by the young lady."
Yan Xun listlessly flipped through a couple of pages, about to set them aside, when his eyes suddenly lit up. Pulling out a thick bundle of documents, he asked: "Why are these wax seals unbroken?"
The young maid scratched her head: "The young lady said they're likely just more flattering words. She instructed to tell the messengers that their masters should come up with fresher phrases next time."
Yan Xun was taken aback, then a flicker of delight appeared on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile. Handing the letters casually to A Jing, he said: "Do as A Chu said."
With that, he stood and returned to his study, his steps noticeably lighter.
A Jing watched Yan Xun's retreating figure in confusion, then glanced at the letters in his hand. On the covers, an elegant Song-style script boldly displayed the character "Ji," the paper fragrant with a subtle, soothing aroma.The next day, Deputy General Cheng from the Elite Cavalry Camp sent over a set of equestrian archery attire, complete with official boots and crossbows, for Chu Qiao’s review.
The young maids were all thrilled, chattering excitedly about how no woman had ever been appointed as an instructor in the Elite Cavalry Camp all these years. They couldn’t help but wonder how those noble-born young men would react to being taught by a girl of fifteen or sixteen.
While the others chattered away, Chu Qiao remained inwardly cautious. Setting aside the deeper implications of Emperor Xia’s decision, she doubted whether the proud and arrogant imperial guards would truly submit to the authority of a young woman like her. Even though Daxia had relatively liberal customs and women held a fairly high status, it still seemed unrealistic. After all, even in modern times, women in the military faced discrimination—no matter how brave they were or how many military merits they earned, their promotions lagged far behind those of men.
At this thought, even someone as clever as her couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety about taking up her post five days later.
“Miss,” A Jing suddenly entered and said, “The Crown Prince mentioned he’ll be back very late tonight. Please have your meal first and don’t wait for him.”
Chu Qiao was taken aback. Over the years, Yan Xun had always kept a low profile. Although his circumstances were no longer what they used to be, he had never stayed out late at night like the young masters of the capital’s noble clans.
“Is there something urgent?”
“No,” A Jing replied with a reassuring smile. “There’s no need to worry, Miss.”
Seeing that he wouldn’t elaborate, Chu Qiao didn’t press further.
Alone that evening, she skipped dinner and only nibbled on some pastries. She sat by the fire in her room, feeling too lazy to move.
For the past two years, she had been constantly on the move, working to build external influence for Yan Xun, and it had been a long time since she had enjoyed such a leisurely life.
Although the master of the Holy Gold Palace restricted Yan Xun’s movements, forbidding him to leave the capital, the control over his subordinates was not particularly strict. On this point, Chu Qiao still couldn’t fathom Emperor Xia’s intentions. Was he truly unconcerned about Yan Xun’s forces growing in secret? Or did he have some hidden trump card?
In the current Daxia Empire, power was fragmented among various factions, and it was far from a situation where the emperor’s word alone could turn the world upside down. Did he truly possess the ability and confidence to do so?
Among the seven great clans, the Mu Clan of Lingnan, the Helian Clan of Huaiyin, and the Shang Clan of Dongyue had always maintained a low profile, remaining neutral in the court’s factional struggles. Over the years, although there had been instances of maternal relatives seizing power and dominating for a time, these clans had remained obedient in the current dynasty. Especially in recent years, with the Muhe Clan and the Wei Clan becoming increasingly prominent, the others had grown even more subdued. However, these families had accumulated influence over generations, with deeply entrenched power networks. Their temporary compliance did not mean they lacked ambition for authority. Once an opportunity arose, they would surely strike back fiercely to seize higher positions. These clans were like hidden arrows in the dark, liable to be unleashed at any moment.For ten years, the Muhe Clan had enjoyed flourishing prosperity with carriages and steeds gathering like clouds. However, after the passing of their previous patriarch Muhe Yunting, the clan gradually showed signs of decline. Although women of the clan held noble status—with Muhe Nayun even serving as the current Empress and giving birth to three sons: the Seventh Prince Zhao Che, the Eighth Prince Zhao Jue, and the youngest Nineteenth Prince Zhao Teng—this still could not compensate for the inherent lack of talent among the Muhe Clan's male descendants. Previously, the Muhe faction had supported the more tactful and easily controllable Zhao Jue to ascend the throne, hoping that after the current emperor's passing, the Muhe Clan would soar to new heights and rise above the Elder Council. Yet before their plans could materialize, Zhao Jue was executed by Emperor Xia. With Zhao Teng still too young, the Muhe Clan had no choice but to turn their support to Zhao Che. However, this resolute and ambitious Seventh Prince seemed to show little regard for his maternal clan, often feigning compliance with his mother while maintaining an elusive and unpredictable relationship with her.
While some rejoiced, others grieved. The gradual decline of the Muhe Clan was precisely the news that the Wei Clan delighted in hearing. Wei Guang, shrewd and calculating, had endured years of patience, accumulating sufficient strength for this moment of sudden rise. Though Consort Shu had long lived in seclusion within the deep palace and did not particularly win the emperor's favor, she conducted herself with grace and dignity, remaining the highest-ranking consort after Muhe Nayun. The Third Prince Zhao Qi and the Thirteenth Prince Zhao Song had always been favored by Emperor Xia, especially Zhao Song, who was enfeoffed as a prince at a young age, becoming the earliest prince after Zhao Che to receive his own fiefdom. Now, with Zhao Qi wielding authority over the imperial capital and deeply trusted by Emperor Xia, the Wei Clan's influence surged, growing more formidable by the day.
The Northwest Batuha Family, of foreign origins, had been a royal clan in the northwest a century ago. Only after submitting to Daxia did they secure a seat in the Elder Council. However, as grassland barbarians, they were disliked by the capital's noble clans and held little foundation in the court, always following the Muhe Clan's lead. The conduct of siblings Zalu and Zama alone revealed the Batuha Family's limited intellect and capability—relying solely on brute force, they posed little threat. With the fall of the Muhe Clan, the Batuha Family's great mansion would inevitably collapse.
In contrast, the Zhuge family remained an enigma. Many were inclined to compare the Zhuge faction with the Mu Clan of Lingnan and the Helian Clan of Huaiyin. Yet Chu Qiao knew that the Zhuge family was far from simple. Hidden beneath Zhuge Mu Qing's unassuming and gentle countenance lay unfathomable cunning and immeasurable schemes. A noble house that had thrived for three centuries could never be as docile as it appeared on the surface. This was evident just by observing the brothers Zhuge Yue and Zhuge Huai.
As for military generals like Meng Tian and Yue Xing, most chose to align themselves with powerful clans or the imperial authority, unable to form an independent system.
Next were the feudal lords scattered across the land.
Twenty years ago, feudal lords in the Jiangnan region had risen in rebellion, targeting the imperial clans, only to be suppressed by a united front of the clans. The surviving lords from that conflict—Lingxi Lingwang, Jing Junwang, and Yanwang Yanshicheng—were among the few remnants. The once-powerful feudal lords of that era had long since vanished, their royal clansmen slaughtered, leaving behind barely twenty to thirty percent of their original numbers.Back when the imperial clan was being massacred on a large scale, King Yan, Yanshicheng, had vigorously petitioned on behalf of the feudal lords. It was precisely because of this incident that he, a feudal lord who had not been involved, was stripped of his title and exiled, expunged from the Zhao Clan's ancestral temple. His surname was changed from Zhao to Yan, and he was banished to the harsh, cold lands of Yanbei, forbidden to return to the capital.
To this day, how many still remember that the King of Yanbei is also a descendant of Daxia's imperial family, that he and Zhao Zhengde drank from the same mother's milk?
Chu Qiao smiled faintly. Emperor Zhao Zhengde's reign could truly be called arduous. Since the founding of Daxia, imperial power had always been sidelined. Compared to the emperors throughout Huaxia's millennia who held both military and political authority, his position was far too stifling.
Just then, the sound of a door opening came from the front courtyard. The young woman's gaze shifted toward the window, her ears perking up as she fell into quiet contemplation.
"Miss, are you asleep?"
Lü Liu's voice sounded outside the door. Chu Qiao acknowledged her, and the young maid carefully entered.
"Miss, the night is cold. Let me change the brazier for you."
Chu Qiao nodded and asked in a low voice, "Has the Crown Prince returned?"
"Yes," the maid replied crisply. "I heard from Little Li, who was at the gate, that the Crown Prince went to Jinxiao Tower to host a banquet for several generals from the Elite Cavalry Camp. He even gifted them the dancers that Minister Ji sent over yesterday."
Chu Qiao was momentarily stunned upon hearing this. Staring into the glowing brazier, she fell silent.
"Miss?" the young maid called out, frowning. "Miss?"
"Hmm?" Chu Qiao looked up. "What is it?"
"If there's nothing else, may I take my leave?"
Chu Qiao nodded. "You may go."
"Then please rest early, Miss." The maid closed the door, and the wind outside suddenly grew stronger, whistling past the window frames. The noises from the front courtyard gradually faded, eventually settling into silence.
In just five days, she would be taking up her post at the Elite Cavalry Camp. Yan Xun's banquet for the camp's generals tonight—his intentions were obvious.
They had always told each other they must be completely honest, never conceal anything, trust one another for life, and never let misunderstandings arise between them. But as the years passed, some matters still made it impossible for them to speak openly. Like her grievances with Zhuge Yue, her disdain and disregard for aristocratic airs, and his other persona in public—the dissolute, deceptive rake.
Yet some things remained unchanged. Their deep, instinctive understanding and the bond forged through shared experiences always led them to silently make the most appropriate arrangements for each other. Though unspoken, facing the bizarre and dazzling world outside, they would always be the closest of comrades, family who would follow each other through life and death.
Just like that snowy night years ago, when she had been beaten while searching for medicine, covered in wounds, stumbling step by step through the snow. Clutching the life-saving herbs for him, she had mustered her last ounce of strength to hurry back, only to find him in the cold, desolate bamboo grove—gravely ill but forcing himself to stay awake, weakly calling her name as he searched for her. That day, the frail youth, despite his own sickness, resolutely lifted the battered girl onto his back. His lips were blue, his face pale, as he trudged alone through the pitch-black night. Though his steps were unsteady, his expression was remarkably determined.
That day, he knelt by her bedside, holding her hand, and whispered word by word before her nearly unconscious eyes: In this life, I will never let you suffer abuse again.In those days, they didn't even dare to speak loudly at night. Yet this seemingly powerless promise profoundly shook her soul, making her tie this unexpectedly gained life to the blade of his grand ambitions.
The next day, when Wei Shuyou once again brought men to pressure them, the powerless young Yan Xun had a section of his little finger severed. Had Zhao Song not arrived in time, his entire hand might have been cut off under the blades of the Wei Clan.
That night was the first time Chu Qiao cried since entering the Holy Gold Palace, and the only time.
She hadn't shed tears when starving, hadn't wept when bullied, hadn't cried even when whipped until covered in wounds - she would only widen her eyes, firmly memorizing her enemies' faces without showing any weakness. But that day, when Yan Xun had his finger severed yet stubbornly refused to show her the wound at night, she could no longer hold back her sobs.
She could endure hunger, pain, and humiliation. She could bear suffering herself because she knew she would eventually grow up, escape this predicament, and take revenge with her own hands, blade by blade. She had patience, she had time.
But she couldn't bear seeing those close to her get hurt. With Yan Xun's finger severed, who would heal it for him?
That night, she cried for a long time, until Yan Xun grew flustered and could only clumsily hold her, patting her trembling back while raising his right hand to say, "Look, only this small section is gone. It won't affect holding a sword, practicing with blades, eating, or writing. It's fine."
This was the first time Chu Qiao had wept so uncontrollably since coming to this era, shedding more tears than that time in the Zhuge family's woodshed. Only much later did she understand: it was because she had always been alone before. Even with children like Lin Xi around, she still felt no sense of belonging. But on the day Yan Xun lost his finger, she suddenly realized she had family too. And so, she allowed herself this brief moment of emotional vulnerability.
Both of them were solitary souls in this world, with no one else but each other.
The firelight flickered across the woman's face as the night grew more obscure. Outside, the night watch drum sounded distantly in the deep, windy darkness. Chu Qiao lifted her head, gazing at the swaying tree shadows outside before slowly curling up on the soft couch. She hadn't eaten dinner and was quietly waiting for someone to knock.
"A Chu."
Sure enough, after a long while, a mellow, gentle voice sounded outside: "Are you asleep?"
The girl's lips curved slightly in a rare soft smile. When no more sounds came from outside, she eventually jumped off the couch and ran barefoot to the door.
The door creaked open to reveal no one outside, only an engraved nanmu food box quietly placed on the ground. A note was attached - picking it up revealed familiar, elegantly bold handwriting.
"Knowing you sleep late, if you're hungry, eat some. This is duck from Xigui Alley, degreased so no need to worry about gaining weight."Chu Qiao looked up to see a blue bamboo umbrella held over her head amidst the drifting snow. Beneath the white fox-fur cloak, a figure in sparse blue robes appeared elegant and graceful, gradually disappearing into the dark corridor. As snowflakes fluttered down, for a moment she almost saw the boy who once stood by Chishui Lake shouting that he wouldn’t bear the Yan surname if he helped her one more time—not the man who now hid in darkness all day, clad in black robes with gloomy eyes.
Perhaps only in her presence would he occasionally reveal traces of his former self.
He had not remained unchanged; it was only because of her existence that a tender corner remained in his heart—a place others could not tread, encircled by high walls with a secluded gate, opened solely for her.
Chu Qiao stood still, holding the food box in a daze as wind and snow swirled, blanketing the ground in vast whiteness.
Two days later was the hair-pinning ceremony of the Eighth Princess, Zhao Chun. As the Eighth Princess and Zhao Che shared the same mother, she was the most esteemed princess in the current imperial family, and her coming-of-age ceremony was naturally celebrated with great pomp.
Due to the dispute during the hunting event, Yan Xun’s patience with this spoiled girl had gradually worn thin. He merely sent A Jing to deliver congratulatory gifts as a perfunctory gesture.
While Chu Qiao was reviewing the gift list, Yan Xun was drinking tea in the hall. She saw a few polite and respectful auspicious words written at the top, followed by a list of presents: two pairs of Hetian jade Ruyi scepters, four gold-and-jade colored lions, and eight bolts of Huai Song jade brocade.
Neither extravagant nor shabby, it was perfectly appropriate in accordance with etiquette.
Chu Qiao shook her head, wondering what Zhao Chun'er would think upon receiving the gift. Over the years, the rumor of Princess Chun's infatuation with the Heir of Yanbei had long circulated among the capital's upper circles. Empress Muhe Naying had once intervened in the matter, but Zhao Chun'er was inherently willful and stubborn—she would listen to no one but Yan Xun. Coupled with Emperor Xia's policy of non-interference, the young princess grew increasingly unrestrained.
"Osmanthus Garden, Moon Peak Bamboo Mountain—A Chu, we really must visit Biantang someday to taste the Bamboo Mountain wine and try the Osmanthus Garden pills."
Chu Qiao looked up. The sunlight was exceptionally bright today, a rare break from the snow. Early in the morning, Yan Xun had called her to the greenhouse, where they sat facing each other in silence all morning—she reading, he drinking tea—yet both were perfectly content. Hearing his sudden remark, Chu Qiao nodded with a smile. "Alright, let's go together when we have the chance."
Seeing her delight, Yan Xun also broke into a grin. "When A Chu grows up, she will surely become a peerless beauty."
Chu Qiao scoffed. "What did you eat today to make your words so sweet? Or have you grown accustomed to smooth-talking outside, unable to shed your frivolous young master demeanor even upon returning?"
Yan Xun was taken aback, rendered speechless. Chu Qiao immediately regretted her words. Some topics they had tacitly avoided all along, yet she hadn't realized how deeply buried they were, inadvertently surfacing in an awkward moment.
She bit her lip lightly. "I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn."
Yan Xun shook his head. "A Chu is the finest woman in the world, unmatched by anyone."
He said this as naturally as if commenting on the day's meal, but Chu Qiao was slightly stunned. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, revealing a rare glimpse of maidenly shyness.
Despite their closeness, they had never bared their hearts to each other. Years of companionship resembled that of comrades or kin, never crossing into romantic territory. Hearing Yan Xun's words, even a girl with two lifetimes of experience couldn't help but feel flustered.
"A Chu," Yan Xun suddenly turned serious, gazing intently at her. "We've known each other for eight years, sharing fortunes and hardships alike. Now, everything is about to pass. Once matters here are settled and we return to Yanbei, we..."
Before he could finish, A Jing's slightly panicked voice came from outside the door. "Crown Prince, His Majesty summons you."
All lingering emotions vanished instantly. Chu Qiao sprang to her feet, the book in her hand clattering to the ground.
Yan Xun was also startled. Seven years—Emperor Xia had never summoned him before. What did this sudden call portend, fortune or disaster?
"What should we do?"
Chu Qiao's expression turned grave as she turned to him, her voice low and steady.
Yan Xun pondered silently before finally saying, "Don't panic. It should be fine. I'll go see."
"Yan Xun."
Just as he turned to leave, Chu Qiao grabbed his hand. Her small palm was slightly sweaty, cold as snow, gripping him tightly. Her eyes held worry, yet also a steely resolve that would rather shatter than yield. "Be careful. Come back soon."
"Don't worry." Warmth spread in Yan Xun's chest as he clasped her hand and patted her shoulder. "I'll return shortly."
Lü Liu stepped forward to drape a heavy fur cloak over Yan Xun. With a few attendants in tow, he left the Yingge Courtyard.All afternoon, Chu Qiao had been restless, constantly feeling that something was about to happen. When evening came, A Jing suddenly returned. Overjoyed, Chu Qiao hurried forward and asked in a low voice, "Where is the Crown Prince? How is he? Why hasn't he returned yet?"
A Jing looked somewhat awkward but replied slowly, "The Crown Prince is fine. He is currently attending a banquet in the front hall."
Chu Qiao let out a long sigh of relief and said reassuringly, "As long as he's fine, that's what matters. What did the Emperor summon him for?"
A Jing glanced around and noticed several young maidservants surrounding Chu Qiao, all looking at him with puzzled expressions. For a moment, he was at a loss for words.
Chu Qiao's brows gradually furrowed, vaguely sensing that something was unusual. She asked in a low voice, "What exactly is going on?"
"The Emperor..." A Jing hesitated but finally said in a solemn tone, "The Emperor has just summoned His Highness the Crown Prince to... to arrange a marriage for him. He has been betrothed to Princess Chun, who has just come of age."
The young woman was momentarily stunned. She wanted to say something but found herself unable to speak. She glanced around, her brows gradually tightening into a deep frown. Finally, with a furrowed brow, she asked in a very low voice, "A marriage arrangement?"
"Young lady..." A Jing called out with concern.
But Chu Qiao nodded and murmured, "A marriage arrangement."
"Young lady, the Crown Prince was afraid you would worry, so he sent me back to inform you. He said..."
"I'm fine," Chu Qiao shook her head and said, "Royal banquets are fraught with hidden dangers. You should return to his side quickly and protect him, making sure nothing goes wrong. I was just a bit worried, afraid that the Emperor might harm him. Oh, the marriage arrangement—I understand now."
A Jing's face showed a pained expression as he softly called out, "Young lady..."
"I'll return to my room first. You should go quickly." Chu Qiao turned around, her back straight and showing no trace of sorrow. She merely murmured, "I still have many things to do. Lü Liu, bring all the letters from the flower room to my chamber. I need to reply to them."
The snow lay vast and white. The woman was dressed in a goose-yellow gown and a matching cloak, revealing a rare touch of feminine charm. The distant wind blew, sweeping up the snow on the ground and striking her back. Her cloak fluttered, lending a hint of desolation to the scene.
In the distance, the setting sun slowly descended, painting the horizon in fiery hues. Yet no matter how vibrant, it would eventually fade away.
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