Tang Jiaojiao saw the little monk again on New Year's Eve of the thirteenth year of Taixing.
That night, almost everyone in the Crown Prince Mansion was feasting joyously in the front hall, while she wandered aimlessly in the rear garden alone.
Then she encountered the little monk.
When he sat, he seemed about her age, but when he stood, he was much taller.
Clad in white, slender and graceful.
His jet-black eyes were like the night, with a mole at the corner, naturally charming.
Even though Tang Jiaojiao had seen him once, she was still captivated by his appearance upon seeing him again.
While she was lost in thought, the little monk glanced at her lightly and walked past her.
"Where are you going?" Tang Jiaojiao took two steps and asked.
He did not answer, nor did he turn around.
Tang Jiaojiao was a bit annoyed, wanting to reach out and grab him.
Before she could touch him, it seemed as if something pricked her hand, and she quickly drew it back.
