The moon is bright in the sky, and the shadows of clouds are across the window.
The old woman who was sitting under the eaves of the corridor to keep watch was leaning against a black lacquered pillar and dozing off.
The study was lit and brightly lit by candlelight.
Dong Hai held a sheep-horn lantern and carefully led the way for He Ming: "Son-in-law, the master is in the study."
He Ming nodded, his brows shrouded in deep worry and sadness, and his dark blue round-necked robe highlighted his thin and frail figure.
His voice was hoarse: "Thank you for your help."
Dong Hai said respectfully: "You are too polite, sir."
A glass lamp with a flower basket shape hung under the eaves. The dim candlelight illuminated half of He Ming's face.
His eyes were extremely pale, with the corners of his eyes drooping downward, revealing endless melancholy and sadness.
Dong Hai left tactfully, and dismissed the servants and women who were on night watch.
In the blink of an eye, He Ming's lonely figure was the only one left outside the study.
The wooden door with lattices was right in front of me. I lifted my wide sleeves slightly, but it seemed like I couldn't push it open.
The warm yellow candlelight shone under his feet. Staring at the faint halo for a while, He Ming seemed to see Song Lingzhi's smiling face.
On the night of Chinese Valentine's Day, Song Lingzhi was still holding the cloisonné crabapple lantern, standing in the hazy moonlight, talking and laughing, and looking up at He Ming with a smile.
But now, that smile is gone, and instead only a cold and weak face remains.
He Ming guarded the other party for a day and a night, but he did not see any improvement in Song Lingzhi's health.
The fingers hanging down beside the brocade robe were clenched tightly, and the veins on the back of the hand were knotted.
He Ming's eyes were bloodshot, he lowered his head, and a hot tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.
His clenched fists pressed silently against the wooden door, and He Ming tried his best to stifle the sobs in his heart.
He could never forget how he rushed into the yard like a madman, only to see Song Lingzhi, soaked all over, being held in Bai Zhi's arms.
The water surface was rippling, and a branch of golden osmanthus quietly floated on the water, gazing at everything silently.
On the gravel by the lake, there was an inconspicuous fallen leaf, and the mark on it was exactly the same as the one that fell on the carriage that day.
It is a warning and also a wake-up call.
He Ming has been spending most of his time in the Hanlin Academy these days. He thought that if he stayed away from Song Lingzhi, those people's attention might not be on her.
But he underestimated the cruelty of those people.
He clenched his fist with one hand, and the sound of his finger bones crackling was particularly abrupt in the dark.
Song Hanyuan's aged voice came from behind the study: "But He Ming is outside, come in quickly."
Song Hanyuan stayed by her side all night as his own daughter fell into a coma.
He sat behind his desk, and it seemed as if he had a few more silver hairs.
He Ming stood below with his hands hanging, red at the corners of his eyes.
Tears welled up in He Ming's eyes. He lifted his robe, knelt down, and bowed his head to the ground.
Song Hanyuan was startled and quickly stood up and walked around to the desk.
"What are you doing, kid?"
The night wind blew by, the rustling sound passed through the window with ornamental flowers, and the light and shadows under the eaves swayed in the wind.
After a while, Song Hanyuan's surprised and shocked voice came from inside the house: "Is this... a divorce letter?"
Song Hanyuan's eyes were filled with fear, and his hands hung at his waist in anxiety: "What are you doing? Why did you suddenly..."
He Ming lowered his head and closed his eyes: "Before I was in the imperial prison, I also asked Wu Si to deliver a letter."
He Ming's eyes were filled with doubt and confusion, "I just don't know why the letter didn't reach Zhizhi."