Outside the hall.
Lu Ying appeared quietly under the plum tree, as if a ghost.
Through the eaves of the corridor and the tightly shut carved windows, he couldn't hear what the two people inside were saying.
Because it was winter, the glass embedded in the windowpane was fogged with a thin layer of condensation. He could only vaguely see the two of them sitting together, their postures undeniably intimate.
The branches of the plum tree, weighed down by the snow that had fallen overnight, scattered flakes onto his shoulders. Even his eyebrows and eyelashes bore traces of frost.
He seemed utterly unaware, his gaze fixed only on the man and woman within the hall.
After all, it had been some days since he had last seen her.
