Memories came rushing back like a tide, growing clearer and clearer by the moment—the spring breeze brushing past the pear trees outside Chongwen Hall, pure white petals drifting down in a flurry.
A youthful Mùróng Zhuó wore a moon-white robe, its fluttering sleeves catching a few falling pear blossom petals.
He tilted his head back and drank the jar of wine dry. As his Adam's apple bobbed, a single drop of wine slid down his neck and into his collar.
Chapter 220