Ji Qingwu didn't spare a single glance for what Princess Consort Wei was doing or what expression she wore.
Ever since she reached a new level of understanding, the clamor around her seemed to fade away completely.
The feathered arrow shot toward the target, and all the pressure in her body seemed to fly with it into the target board. Ji Qingwu loved the feeling.
She paid no mind to what was happening, nor did she notice the growing unrest among the spectators.
This gave Wei Liru a clear look at the embroidery on Ji Qingwu's clothes.
She wore magnificent aquamarine robes. When the gentle breeze rippled the brocade, it resembled the seamless blending of sky and water.
A golden sun was embroidered on her chest, radiating a gentle warmth.
In ancient times, there was the legend of Hou Yi shooting down the suns.
'For Ji Qingwu to wear the Golden Crow during an archery competition—what brazen ambition!'
