The palace hall was silent, save for the rain overflowing from the eaves. A snow-white rabbit chewed on fodder in its cage, the previous atmosphere of deadly stillness having dissipated.
The young man placed a milky-white chess piece—lone, cold, and solitary upon the board. His fingertips were startlingly long, slender, and fair. His hands were beautiful, with thin, elongated fingers and clear joints. Refracted through the candlelight and filtered by the swaying flames, they appeared even more translucent, the veins on the back of his hands clearly visible.
Jiang Cangyue’s gaze fell upon the chess piece.
Chapter 125