Chapter 69

The morning mist in the Capital was as thick as unmelting ink, or perhaps like asphalt deliberately stirred by someone, rolling and churning through the alleys laden with the clamor of the market. The damp mist clung to the green tiles and white walls, condensing into fine droplets of water that slowly slid down the mottled brick joints, like the silent tears of this city. When the wooden doors of the Guangfu Teahouse were pushed open, they emitted a creaking sound. The sandalwood long tables had been polished shiny by the passage of time, yet they still bore the stains of the previous night's tea, exuding a stale odor mixed with the pungent smell of tobacco pouches and the sweat of tea patrons, making it almost difficult to breathe. The storyteller's wood-block slaps resounded to the heavens, and turbid droplets of spittle splashed onto the coarse cloth garments of the front-row onlookers, blossoming into dark spots on the fabric. "Gather round, honorable patrons! That legitimate daughter of the Shen Family, Shen Mingyue, was originally a remnant of the former dynasty!" The storyteller suddenly raised his pitch, his eyes flashing with exaggerated brilliance. His folded fan snapped open, pointing into the void, and the faded landscape painting on the fan swayed with his motion.