It was getting dark.
It was almost time to light the lamps. An oil lamp supported by a blue and white water grass belt was hung high above the head. The light was dim and unclear.
There seemed to be wind in the courtyard, and the sound of the wind was low and whimpering. Song Lingzhi was in a trance for a moment, as if she had returned to the loneliness and helplessness of that night. She seemed to... hear the raging wind that night again.
"Song Lingzhi, that night... did you also learn from this?"
"Song Lingzhi, that night... did you also learn from this?"
Song Lingzhi...
The sketchbook at my feet had long been torn into pieces, and the scraps of paper were scattered all over the floor like cotton wool, and occasionally a few pages fell into the bathing pool. The water swayed, reflecting the sparkling brilliance of the pearls and emeralds in the pool.
The water droplets wet the paper little by little, just like Song Lingzhi's wet clothes that night, transparent and thin.
Anger and humiliation surged to her heart, her pearly teeth clenched her red lips, and beads of bright red blood appeared.
"you… "
His arms were raised high, like a gust of wind passing by.
The crisp slap did not land on Shen Yan's face.
The woman's slender wrist was tightly grasped by Shen Yan, just like Song Lingzhi's nightmare that night. Shen Yan stood condescendingly, looking down at Song Lingzhi's embarrassment and weakness.
She was like a colorful butterfly trapped in a silkworm cocoon, with her wings broken before she could even emerge.
Can't escape, can't struggle.
Song Lingzhi seemed to be stuck in the nightmare of that night forever.
There was a lot of sadness in Song Lingzhi's eyes, which were red and swollen, and her almond-shaped pupils were as misty as autumn water.
She took a deep breath and tried her best to hold back the cry that was about to burst out of her throat.
Song Lingzhi sneered: "No matter where you learned it, it has nothing to do with the Third Prince. The Third Prince may have forgotten that Brother He is my husband now."
Song Lingzhi clenched his teeth and spoke word by word, "I learned it for him."
The shackles on my wrists suddenly tightened.
Shen Yan's eyes were cold and deep, but calm.
After a long time, a soft laugh fell into my ears.
Song Lingzhi raised his head, but only saw a pair of black eyes full of sarcasm.
Shen Yan casually pushed him away and walked away: "That requires him to survive."
A few very light words kept echoing in Song Lingzhi's ears.
Her eyes widened, and she suddenly remembered that He Ming had been in a coma for some time. Bai Zhi had comforted her a few days ago, saying that He Ming was fine and would wake up soon.
Song Lingzhi fell down on the chaise longue with her legs limp and her slender fingers grasped a corner of the blue satin pillow.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and the tears that had been rolling in her eyes for a long time could no longer be held back. With a "click", they rolled heavily onto the back of her white hand.
I feel weak all over, as if I am falling apart.
Song Lingzhi breathed a sigh of relief silently.
Not bad, not bad.
Shen Yan did not find any clues about the mother-of-pearl brocade box.
There was still hope that she might escape.
…
The sun shines on the ground, and the willows hang down their golden threads.
Baizhi held an official kiln porcelain box in her hands, opened it, and saw a dozen hairpin sticks gathered together.
Bai Zhi lowered her head and glanced at the red fingerprints on Song Lingzhi's wrist, her brows furrowed.
Song Lingzhi's skin is delicate and tender, and it is easy to leave scars if it is slightly bumped. Bai Zhi is usually careful and can always take care of both.
But now there is the red mark on Song Lingzhi's wrist... Bai Zhi frowned, took the hairpin stick, lightly pinched a little powder on the palm of her hand, and carefully applied it to Song Lingzhi.