Dusk.
The reluctant sunset was still tirelessly flirting with the clouds; the coy clouds flushed a seductive red on their cheeks.
The Princess dismounted, tossing her horsewhip to a nearby attendant, and saw her Seventh Uncle waiting for her at the doorway.
Seventh Uncle stepped forward to help the Princess with her cloak. Though they appeared as master and servant, their relationship was more akin to that of a grandfather and granddaughter.
Despite just returning from outside, there was no trace of chill about the Princess. Seizing the moment her uncle was beside her, she began to grumble, "Seventh Uncle, look at my mother! When I lead troops, she calls it fooling around. But when she leads troops, doesn't she cause an even bigger fuss than I do?"
These words could only be spoken to this old man who had watched her grow up. Others were not only unsuited to hear them, but they also dared not listen.
