When Jin Yun, who was waiting at the hall entrance, saw it was Qin Chang Ge coming to serve tea, her expression immediately changed.

She moved her lips but ultimately dared not say anything.

Qin Chang Ge smiled slightly at her and said: “Sister Su Ling is somewhat indisposed, so I’m replacing her. Don’t worry, Aunt.”

Jin Yun sighed softly: “You child…” She gently pushed open the hall door.

The light inside the hall was dim. Through the slightly opened door crack, faint sunlight spilled in, and low voices could be heard from within.

“The Princess insists on becoming a nun… why… Shanglin Nunnery is so desolate…”

Xiao Jue’s voice sounded somewhat weary.

“Your Majesty need not be troubled. The Princess has always possessed wisdom. Now that she has penetrated worldly affairs and taken refuge in Buddha to practice with unshaved hair, praying for our Xiao Dynasty’s blessings, it is a blessing for our imperial dynasty…”

Concubine Rou’s voice was gentle and sweet, timid and delicate, making it hard to imagine what she would look like when her willow brows stood on end while beating palace maids to death with clubs.

Despite such gentle words, Xiao Jue still became angry.

“What do you understand! You people have all been hoping for her to leave the palace for a long time, haven’t you? Hmph, such hearts deserve death!”

The sound of overturning tables and furniture.

The soft rustling of silk robes across the floor – it seemed Concubine Rou dared not make a sound and prostrated herself in apology.

All the palace servants in the hall knelt on the ground with pale faces and blue lips.

In the oppressive atmosphere, the hall door was suddenly pushed open gently.

Sunlight spread like snow brocade, magnificently unfurling across the gold-inlaid cloud-patterned brick floor.

Qin Chang Ge stepped in with steady strides.

Carrying fragrant tea with a serene expression, she slowly approached her former companion and husband from her past life.

A ray of light reflected onto Xiao Jue’s thick eyelashes. As if sensing something, he turned his head and saw this scene:

Pale sunlight with tiny particles floating like mist, resembling transparent silk gauze. Within the gauze-shrouded light, the woman’s figure was slender and graceful, her face tranquil, hair loosely arranged in a bun, makeup delicate as pear blossoms, her flowing sleeves giving her the bearing of the Goddess of the Luo River.

Her approaching posture was as if she were an supremely noble empress or imperial princess, majestically walking toward a throne of nine phoenixes and nine dragons.

Xiao Jue felt he could faintly hear the tender and delicate sound of the woman’s light-colored sleeves gliding over the vermillion threshold.

His thoughts suddenly became somewhat dazed.

He recalled the lonely long street from years ago, that moment of sudden glance back, when a woman cleaner than snow and smoother than jade, yet with hair black as the indistinguishable darkness of night, had lazily smiled and walked forward.

Red lips blooming like flowers – those flowers had bloomed in his blood-and-fire lifetime ever since, never truly withering for even a moment.

Now where did those flowers bloom – on which white jade steps, in which purple-gold palaces?

Yesterday’s chaotic mountains were dim, today clouds rest on clothing. Now those clouds have long drifted away, their destination unknown. His brocade robes carry faint incense, but no longer bear the touch of that former person.

Only leaving him with a lifetime of loneliness to remember in vain.

Now even his elder sister, who had supported him since childhood through thick and thin, was about to leave him.

High places are unbearably cold; the deep palace is profoundly lonely.

The crisp sound of a teacup being set down reached him. He shuddered and his gaze immediately cleared.

Silently lowering his head, he looked at the woman gently serving tea. Upon closer inspection, she wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. Apart from her extraordinary bearing, her appearance was quite different from her back then. He didn’t know what had come over him just now, to think of her merely because of a silhouette.

This hadn’t happened once in three years.

Qin Chang Ge steadily presented the teacup, her gaze sweeping over his casual robe of black fabric embroidered with golden dragons, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

Clearly a different face – why did Xiao Jue’s expression when looking at her seem slightly confused?

With Xiao Jue, this life had been separated by three years, but in her memory, it had been twenty-three years since they’d last met.

The memories of those long days were vivid. Compared to those recollections, his appearance was unchanged – still handsome and upright, his expression sharp and keen, always standing tall as a sword. Only after all this time had passed, the sword’s edge had grown sharper, its brilliant light like snow, and uncontrollable killing intent faintly emanated from him.

The glances he cast could seemingly slice through air, audible with tiny, sharp sounds like thin ice and swift blades whistling coldly.

Ha, the passage of time hadn’t made him profound and concealed – instead, he had become even sharper.

Lowering her eyelashes, a slight smile played at the corner of her mouth. Xiao Jue… is your heart still red? Is your blood still hot?

That person who struck the fatal blow back then – does that vast dark shadow behind them belong to you?

Qin Chang Ge bowed deeply.

Pouring tea.

Xiao Jue’s gaze swept over and suddenly his thick brows furrowed.

He shouted: “What’s that in your sleeve!”

With five fingers spread, he swept his hand across Qin Chang Ge’s chest. Qin Chang Ge cried out and fell backward, her outer robe’s front panel slightly torn by this pull. With a “pat,” an object fell out.

Concubine Rou was already shrieking: “You, you, you, you… what were you hiding!”

Jumping up with rare agility, she ordered frantically: “Someone come! Someone come! Drag this insolent slave who startled His Majesty out and—”

With a crash, the door was slammed open. A green shadow swept in, moving silently yet swift as lightning. In a flash, it reached Qin Chang Ge’s side, one hand shooting out to grasp her throat.