Qianqing Palace, main hall.
The night was as dark as ink, swallowing the majestic palace buildings, only a single lamp inside the hall stood bright.
Xu Yuan sat quietly at the desk, his silhouette elongated and lonely by the lamp's light.
A fragrant breeze swept by, and a graceful figure approached silently, gently draping a cloak over him.
Without turning, Xu Yuan's voice was somewhat hoarse in the expansive hall:
"You're awake."
Li Qingyan wore only a thin garment, her delicate curves faintly visible under the dim candlelight. She bypassed the desk and sat sideways on the cold platform, glancing at his profile, flickering in the candlelight:
"Still upset about Hua Hong's affair?"
Xu Yuan did not answer.
Li Qingyan stretched out her cool fingertips, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, saying:
"Always pretending to be cold-blooded."
Xu Yuan remained silent.
Inside the great hall, it was so quiet one could hear the gentle crackling of the candle burning.
