Zhao Yan had been reading late into the night by the lamp, and the lamp oil had burned his hand. When Weimo finished applying the ointment and turned out of Qinshui Pavilion holding the beast-patterned medicine box, a flash of coarse linen hem suddenly darted across the west veranda.
A neat hand reached out from behind the artificial rockery. Fixing her gaze, she saw A-Qiao cowering in the moss-mottled crevice of the stones.
"Sister, hurry..." The young maid beckoned to her, mouthing the words silently.
Chapter 48