The black night, the bright moon shining over the Imperial Palace.
The Emperor, dressed in a Dragon Robe, rushed through the winding and long corridor, then stormed into the Dragon Roar Hall.
He locked the door frantically, then, as if struggling like a drowning person, gripped a small, round mechanism.
Twist...
Twist...
Twist again...
After a few twists, the Dark Pavilion opened.
The young Emperor dashed inside, and upon seeing the old swallow kite on the table, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
It felt as if he had found his backbone.
The anxious, panicked expression faded away, and clarity returned to his eyes.
This kite was his emotional anchor, and with this support, Ji Hu could live peacefully up to this day.
