The late spring rain was wrapped in chill and wetted Shen Weilan's broken hair at the temples. She twisted the last strand of green silk into the jade crown in front of the bronze mirror. The person in the mirror had clear and handsome features, and the moon-white t-shirt made her figure even taller and straighter. She no longer had the softness of a daughter's family.
"Sir, the officials are already waiting outside the door." The old servant Fu Bo's voice was trembling, and his eyes swept over the white cloth tightly tied around her neck - it was to flatten the curve of her throat, and also to remind her that from today on, she was Shen Yan, the newly discovered beauty, not Shen Weilan, the daughter of the guilty minister.
