The charcoal fire in the copper basin was only the last bit of scarlet, and the paper ashes were slightly curled by the residual heat, like some kind of unrelenting mockery.
Shen Jinghong flicked it with an iron fire chopstick, and the ashes named "Top Secret Instructions" were completely scattered and mixed into the smoke of inferior silver frost charcoal.
She rubbed her numb knees, and before she could complain about how troublesome Tingfeng Pavilion's damn single-line contact method was, the already shaky carved wooden door was kicked open.
This kick was so powerful that the old dust on the door frame fell, making Shen Jinghong narrow his eyes in confusion.
