On the first day of the fifth lunar month, the pomegranate flowers in the West Side Courtyard of the Marquis's Mansion were in full, vivid bloom. Jiang Rou stood before the moon gate, gazing toward the fluttering banners of General Zhenwei's Mansion, her fingers clutching a piece of silver—the proceeds from selling her mother’s jade bracelet. Feicui held an oil-paper umbrella and whispered, "Miss, the servant on night watch said that men from the Shadow Pavilion often go to the West City Ruined Temple..."
"Take me there." Jiang Rou stuffed the silver into her sleeve, her face, shielded by a layer of rouge, remaining deathly pale. Three days ago, she had heard some servants gossiping at a street corner about how the "Shadow Pavilion can solve anyone’s troubles," and she had clung to that idea like a drowning person to a straw.
Spiderwebs swayed in the breeze at the West City Ruined Temple, and a half-burned candle flickered on the altar table. Jiang Rou gripped the hem of her skirt, watching a gray-clad man in a bamboo hat leap down from the rafters. Her voice carried a forced steadiness: "I heard you can help people fulfill their wishes?"
Chapter 170