On the eaves of the Xuan'an Bureau’s main hall, copper bells chimed incessantly in the draft.
Pi Yanlin crouched by the threshold, shelling edamame. With a light nip of his nail, vibrant green beans tumbled into a clay bowl.
Gu Qinghuan’s embroidered shoe tip suddenly blocked his view. He looked up, meeting her tightly pressed lips.
Chapter 100