Evening, New Year's Eve.
The joy of the New Year resembled a beautifully woven brocade, initially accumulating before now slightly subdued in its luster, waiting for the brightest and most dazzling moment.
At a leisurely midpoint, the resonance lingered, only waiting for the sound of a firecracker.
The red silk lanterns hanging in the Prince Mansion remained unchanged, with the servants and maids each keeping vigil, the air permeated with peace.
Now the courtyard where Lin Wanxiao resided was even more tranquil.
A few old plum trees had passed their prime, with the lingering fragrance faintly detectable. Her body feared the cold and she disliked the stifling air from coal, so after lighting several lamps, she opened the door for ventilation. The cold wind whistled, she shrunk her neck, and instructed Xiuhe to set up a small table indoors, placing the embroidery frame and threads to pass the time with needlework.
