That day, by the time Feng Jiu returned to the Eastern Palace, the lanterns had already been lit.
Knowing the way well, Feng Jiu walked to his own sleeping chamber and stopped the eunuch from lighting the everlasting lamps within the hall. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the eunuch and entered the dimly lit chamber alone.
Within this dim chamber, there was a hint of snow-white, positioned at Feng Jiu's usual spot for reviewing memorials.
"How was today's harvest?"
A clear voice sounded, and suddenly all the everlasting lamps in the hall were lit. A figure sat in Feng Jiu's usual place, holding a bamboo slip and reading intently.
This figure was Qing Yu, and the touch of snow-white that Feng Jiu saw was Qing Yu's almost entirely white hair.
