The rain had unknowingly lightened. The morning light of the hour of Mao spread over the wet eaves, intermittently dripping the leftover echoes of the night rain, and vibrant green moss emerged from the cracks in the stone slabs.
The wind that hit the face carried the fresh scent of pine needles.
Last night's sudden rain had collected on the official road into copper mirrors, reflecting the hastily crushed cloud shadows of Ying Yin.
From afar, one could see many people standing outside the emperor's sleeping quarters.
Civil servants stood on the left side of the hall door, and military generals on the right.
There weren't many people, but they were all important ministers of the court.
The civil servants were whispering about something, and the most rule-abiding Gu Fuju merely glanced sideways, causing them all to fall silent.
Minister Yang watched this with cold indifference.
