The copper mirror in the main room was veiled in black silk, a mourning custom of Tianxiang Pavilion. Shen Qing pulled back the shroud, and the glass reflected her own pale face—along with her mother, dressed in a burial shroud, standing directly behind her.
"Ah!" She spun around abruptly, but there was nothing behind her save for fluttering curtains. When she looked back at the mirror, her mother’s image was clearly visible, her gaunt fingers pointing toward the vanity drawer.
Xiao Yu’s blade was already drawn three inches from its scabbard: "A scent-shadow?"
Chapter 55