It's cold in spring, and the wind at the entrance of Zhuquefang is like a knife, bringing a biting chill when it blows across people's cheeks.
The red silk in front of the Chu family's door has not yet been removed, and the bright colors are still hanging on the lintel, but it is already hung with plain white lanterns, as if an unfinished wedding has been turned into a funeral ceremony.
The bluestone steps were crowded with people watching the excitement, whispering to each other, and their eyes full of sarcasm and pity.
"Have you heard? The eldest son of Xiao is here today to break off the engagement!"
"How can a talented Confucian scholar and the captain of the Thunder Team marry a girl who grew up by the stove? Miss Liu is from a scholarly family and is proficient in all kinds of music, chess, calligraphy and painting, so she is worthy of him."
In the wind, a slender figure knelt on the cold stone steps, his head lowered, his hair messy and sticking to his cheek, motionless.
