Dong Gong Ruoshu arrived briskly and left just as swiftly. With a spring of her feet, she hopped over the threshold as though playing some childhood game, like a little dumpling plunging into the abyss of night — she was born bearing the festive joy of New Year's celebrations.
Yet the sight of her white dress cast shadows, reminiscent of an ethereal ghost, fading to the verge of vanishing.
Chen Yi carried the lantern back for Dong Gong Ruoshu. The wind shook the flame, and the moss-covered walls danced with its light and shadow. Yin Weiyin noticed how the firelight stretched Chen Yi's figure thin and long, resembling a ruby-red carrot harvested during autumn.
"Return to your room."
Two words, spat coldly.
Yin Weiyin shivered visibly, wanting to say something further, but realizing he had already turned and walked away toward his quarters, his silhouette moving insistently under the flickering lamplight.
