Pi Yanlin’s cloth shoes crunched over dew-dampened grass. Gu Qinghuan gripped his wrist tightly—though she had long since sheathed her blade, her fingertips were still trembling.
"Wait." He stopped abruptly. As he turned his head, his stray locks brushed against her eyelashes, which were beaded with morning dew.
Gu Qinghuan froze, following his gaze toward the main road at the foot of the mountain. The commoners, who had previously been huddled against the walls, were now standing on tiptoe, peering toward the Xuan'an Bureau. An old woman wrapped in a coarse headscarf clutched a petition so tightly her knuckles were white, yet she refused to let go.
Chapter 204