"I don't hate you anymore," he said softly, "but I don't forgive you either. That's it."
When the funeral procession left, Shen Qingyi put a large cloak on him: "Your Majesty, it's snowing."
Yes, it's snowing. Snowflakes were flying, falling on the eaves of the palace, on the stone steps, and on the branch of the old plum tree in front of the Imperial Ancestral Temple - it was Concubine Chen's favorite flower during her lifetime.
"Qingyi, I sometimes think," Jamel Xiao held her hand, "if my mother and concubine were still alive, what would they say if they saw the peaceful scene today?"
Shen Qingyi thought for a while and smiled: "She will say - Yan'er, spring is really here."
Jamel Xiao also smiled, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes stretched gently in the snow light.
Yes, spring is here.
