The last rays of the setting sun stained the horizon a bloody red.
Ji Qingwu ran all the way from Qianyuan Hall to the palace gates, where she spotted the distant silhouettes of the returning procession.
It wasn't the grand, sweeping procession that had departed. Instead, a small, advance party was the first to return.
Ji Qingwu's hands clenched into fists, her lips trembling. Though she had been desperate to see Emperor Wu Su, her feet seemed rooted to the ground as she watched the imperial carriage draw ever closer, unable to move.
Her heart hammered so erratically she couldn't make out its rhythm.
Ji Qingwu was suddenly terrified. A cowardice crept into her heart; she was so afraid of what she might see...
Duan Mingfeng was at the head of the procession, clearing the path. Ji Qingwu took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Duan Mingfeng had already spotted the woman in teal waiting by the palace gates. His expression was as dark as charcoal, heavy and grim.
