Meng Yuhuai had no idea that Daoxiang Garden was only open for half a day today. Seeing the scene before him, he felt puzzled. He tied up Old Black under a tree and leisurely stepped into the main hall.
There was not a single sound to be heard upstairs or downstairs, but the tung oil lamps lit all around crackled and popped quietly. Around dusk, every now and then a cool breeze would sneak into the room, causing the lamp flames to flicker, and the faint shadows on the wall to sway gently.
"Xiaomai?"
Meng Yuhuai called out softly, but of course, there was no response.
On the table in the center of the main hall, a green gauze lantern was skewedly placed, looking precarious as if it could fall to the ground at any moment, and if it ignited the wood, that would be no laughing matter.
"Messing around..."
He couldn't help but chuckle as he walked over to steady the lantern, and suddenly noticed a bowl on the table from the corner of his eye.
