The alley returned to its usual quiet.
No more matchmakers coming and going.
No more piercing cries of crows.
After much care and expensive rare herbs, Wei Zhao's health visibly improved.
He sat in a wheelchair, wearing finely stitched cotton clothes, a blanket over his knees, examining the secret messages from Shangjing.
Yu Tingwan carried freshly baked pastries from the kitchen and slowed her steps as she passed Wei Zhao, unable to resist taking a glance.
She couldn't understand.
Another coded message.
Wei Zhao clearly had his back to her, yet it seemed he had eyes in the back of his head.
Without turning around, he spoke in a flat tone.
"The Crown Prince's health is getting worse."
Yu Tingwan blinked.
What did that have to do with her?
Rumor had it that Shangjing was so prosperous you could find gold on the ground. Yet, in the environment Yu Tingwan lived, many couldn't afford to eat and starved to death.
She had seen refugees, too.
