The early summer wind carried the sweet fragrance of the Sophora japonica flower in the imperial garden, rolling up a few light green petals and falling on the sleeves of Huo Chen's plain brocade robe. He was squatting in the open space in the side courtyard of Yangxin Hall, holding a half-inch-long bronze gear between his fingertips. The sunlight filtered through the carved window lattice on the eaves of the corridor, casting tiny shadows on his side face, making the shallow scar at the corner of his eye softer. This scar was left during the duel with Mo Wu Jiu in the mine. It still feels a little rough to the touch, but it has already become a mark of his bond with this era.
