The rain in Yongxiang was bone-chilling. Shen Qingxian knelt on the bluestone pavement, listening to the eunuch's shrill voice as he read the imperial edict: her father and brothers were exiled, her family's property confiscated, and she was to enter the palace as a servant.
A pair of official boots splattered with mud stopped in front of her. She looked up and saw a pale, handsome face, and a pair of eyes unfathomably deep.
He leaned down and tilted his oil-paper umbrella over her head. His voice was so low that only the two of them could hear: "Do you want to live?"
