"But for your sake, I am willing to be a mere subject who assists the young new emperor and bows to his commands."
Ji Qingwu asked coolly, "When?"
Wei Ting stood at her side, his voice low. "I am in a hurry, but tomorrow is too rushed. There wouldn't be enough time to prepare anything."
'The longer this is delayed, the greater the chance for things to change,' Ji Qingwu's eyes shifted.
But Wei Ting gave her no time to recover, smiling as he said, "I think the day after tomorrow would be perfect."
After he left, Ji Qingwu looked up at the inky black night sky. Not a star was visible, only a sliver of a moon like a faint brow.
The day after tomorrow was the ninth day of the eighth month—Emperor Wu Su's birthday.
Ji Qingwu stood guard at the entrance until her body grew cold. Glancing up, she saw a shadow flit past a pillar by the side hall's corridor.
