The night soaked into the Forbidden City, dyeing the glazed tiles a bottomless ink color.
In the imperial study room, the candlelight danced, stretching the shadow of Empress Wu Qingshuang into a long and thin shadow, casting it on the dragon-patterned screen behind her.
The air was filled with the dull smell of old books and sandalwood, making people breathless.
The cinnabar imperial pen in her hand was hanging in the air, and a drop of bright red ink condensed. Finally, it was overwhelmed and hit the memorial in front of her, blooming into a dazzling flower.
