In the inner courtyard of the Lin Mansion, the embroidery room was serene.
Madam Yang sat alone by the window, her fingertips gently caressing a plain white silk handkerchief.
A blood-red plum blossom bloomed on its surface, its color a deep crimson, as if it held some hidden meaning.
As she gazed at the blood-red plum blossom, a wistful, faraway look filled Madam Yang's eyes. Whenever her gaze drifted, the corners of her lips would unconsciously curve into a faint yet genuine smile.
Several days had passed since that day.
Chen Sheng had not yet come for her as she had expected. However, for some reason, an unshakeable certainty lingered in her heart, an intuition telling her that he would definitely come.
This budding anticipation had washed away the faint sorrow that usually clouded her features. Even her personal maid, Lvxiu, had noticed the change, often remarking in private how her mistress's complexion had grown more radiant and that a light had returned to her eyes.
