On a mid-autumn night in Yuanchi Continent, the moonlight was like crushed pearls, densely spread on the glazed tiles of Prince Luo's Mansion, reflecting the cold and faint light, but it could not dispel the dense haze in Zichen Palace. The evening breeze carried the cold fragrance of osmanthus and passed over the vermilion palace wall. As soon as it touched the gilded palace door, it was forced back by a stagnant air pressure, leaving only a few tiny trembling sounds on the copper bells on the eaves. The sound was very light, but it was like someone grinding their teeth in the dark, adding to the dead silence in the palace. The gilt-bronze lamps were lined up under the eaves of the palace, with tongues of whale oil licking greedily at the gold-painted wicks. The crackling sound was infinitely amplified in the silence, making the eight white jade pillars with coiled dragons appear intertwined with light and dark. The flowing cloud pattern on the pillar body seemed to be breaking free from the constraints of the stone in the firelight, but it was wrapped in a layer of bone-soaking coldness, just like the endless thoughts of the dignitaries hiding under their wide sleeves.
