The morning light at the foot of Kunlun Mountain pierced through the lattice windows like shards of gold, gilding Shen Mingyue’s pale face with a soft halo. A corner of the paper window was lifted by the morning breeze, rustling as if gently calling to the person in a deep slumber. Gu Jinghong held her icy hand, his thumb tracing the dark purple, spiderweb-like veins that had emerged on the back of her hand due to the overuse of her powers; he touched her as if she were a precious treasure that might shatter at any moment. The room was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs, and the Witch Clan’s special life-sustaining decoction bubbled in a copper stove, the faint sound of the boiling liquid remarkably clear in the quiet room. This was her seventh day in a coma, and every rise and fall of her breath tugged at Gu Jinghong’s heart. He stood guard by the bed, his gaze never once leaving her, tucking in her quilt or gently wiping her forehead with a damp cloth as if he could wake her from her slumber through these simple acts. Occasionally, he would pick up the Jade Pendant lying to the side and stare at the cracks upon it, memories flooding back like a tide—the moments of life and death they had shared together replaying endlessly in his mind.
Inside the Fengtian Hall of the Imperial City, the flames on the gilded candelabras flickered in the draft, making the atmosphere of the merit-awarding court session all the more oppressive. On the coiling dragon pillars, the scales of …
Chapter 43