When the copper bell on the rooftop was struck by the wind into a crisp chime, Su Qingxue suddenly turned around. The dark green jade hairpin in her hair cast a gentle luster in the morning light. As it grazed Ye Fan's Adam's apple, her voice was as soft as snow falling on roof tiles: "Young Master, last year—no, last night—the men from the Zhao Estate beheaded three storytellers in the south of the city simply because they let slip a few extra words about my mother's past."
Ye Fan's fingers paused on the edge of the tile. In his past life, he had witnessed too much bloodshed, but at this moment, the flush at the corner of Su Qingxue's eyes made his heart tremble far more than any blade's gleam. He reached out and smoothed her hair, which had been ruffled by the wind. The Yuanqi in his Inner World unconsciously spilled outward, condensing into an ethereal, warm mist around the two of them: "Once Young Master Zhao's troubles are settled, I will take you to Meiling to see the plum blossoms. The old plum trees there are taller than Wanhua Tower, and when they bloom—"
"When they bloom, they can dye the entire mountain red." Su Qingxue picked up the thread instantly, the reddish hue at the corner of her eye rippling along with her smile. "My wet nurse told me about it when I was little." Abruptly, she grabbed Ye Fan's wrist, her fingernails pressing lightly into his pulse point. "Yet the snow at Meiling is also heavy—heavy enough to snap the thickest plum branches. Young Master,…
Chapter 37