With each autumn rain, the weather grew colder. When Song Yunzhao pushed open her window that morning, a light rain was pitter-pattering on the eaves. From afar, the courtyard seemed to be shrouded in a misty veil. A gust of autumn wind made her shiver.
Xiangxue hurried over with an outer robe. "My Lady, don't stand by the window. The wind is quite chilly right now."
Song Yunzhao nodded and walked back inside, saying, "The weather turned cold so suddenly. Have the autumn clothes from the Clothing Bureau been delivered yet?"
"Not yet." Xiangxue touched her mistress's hand and found it a bit cold, so she turned and brought over a hand warmer.
Song Yunzhao didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "It's not even winter yet. There's no need for this."
"Your hands are too cold. It's better to warm them up. It doesn't matter what season it is—if it makes you comfortable, then it's useful."
