The hustle and bustle of the palace banquet was isolated in another world by the thick palace walls.
In the side room in the corner of the side courtyard, only the night wind that penetrated the cracks in the window whispered, carrying a few fragments of distant music, like faded gold powder, falling on the dusty ground.
Shen Yuan folded her arms and sat against the cold wall.
The plain white tunic was as thin as paper, soaked with the night dew beside the waterside pavilion and the deeper chill.
She did not light a lamp and allowed the darkness to surround her. Only her eyes reflected the pale moonlight coming in from the window, and she was so calm that it was almost dead.
The cold touch of jade remains on the fingertips, as well as the stinging pain of the rough stone rubbing against the palm.
She slowly opened her palms and looked at the small wounds in the moonlight - not deep enough to leave scars. Just like her, in the eyes of others, she was just an insignificant stain on the party clothes, which could be easily brushed away.
She moved her almost frozen legs, got up and walked to the deepest part of the room.
