In the twenty-third year of Jian'an, the snow in Bianjing fell in goose-feather flakes.
Shen Yufu clutched half a broken porcelain shard, letting the sharp edge cut into her palm. The pawnbroker's words still echoed in her ears: "This Ding-ware celadon pillow is an imperial palace piece. Are you sure the young lady didn't come by it dishonestly?"
She stared at the bronze door rings on the vermilion gates opposite her. The beast-mask knockers were blinded by snow, looking remarkably like the time Lin Yanzhi had been hit by her slingshot while scaling the wall when they were thirteen.
Chapter 34