Qiao Xu wrapped her brocade fox fur tightly around her body. The scent of ink from the memorial she had just finished drafting at the Rites Yamen still lingered on her fingertips, mixed with the smell of snow particles in the cold wind. It was indescribably awkward. He had just come out of the ministry, and wanted to go straight back home, but his colleagues forced him to go to Zuixianlou for two drinks. Although his steps were steady now, his head felt a little heavy - it was not that he was drunk, but the alcohol was wrapped in a cold air and got into his head, making him feel stuffy.
