The snow we have been looking forward to for a long time has not yet fallen. Bai Huatang felt a little uninterested, so the palace maid put the white cloak on her body and took the hand stove that Hu'er had just heated. My hair is still half-long but not short, and I can't style it in a graceful and beautiful way. It was too cold. She had written the words on the rice paper half a month ago. Now she was asked to put down the stove and practice calligraphy. There was no way she could do it.
"What time is it now?" Huatang asked with a bit of luck. The imperial court has long since gone down, but that person may still be in the martial arts training ground, or in the library. Isn't he afraid of the cold? Hum, it would be better to freeze him to death. Huatang was a little angry.