Just as the second watchman's drum sounded, the blue stone slab road of Qīnglán Town was glazed with cold light from the night dew. Ye Fan pressed himself against the shadow of the inn's outer wall, his dark night attire nearly blending with the grey bricks. He raised a hand to feel the oiled paper package inside his tunic once more. His fingertips brushed the sharp edges of the Zhao Estate's dark iron seal, and a thin layer of sweat broke out on his palm—this item was far too dangerous, hot enough to make his heart pound like a drum.
The candlelight in the second-floor east window flickered, and he instantly withdrew his hand. After three short knocks, the instant the door latch clicked open, he could even hear the sound of his own Adam's apple moving. The door opened a mere half-foot, and Qín Wǎnshuāng's silhouette was wrapped in a moon-white sleeping robe, a silver hairpin stuck diagonally through her hair to catch the candlelight, illuminating the little cinnabar mole at the corner of her eye so that it looked like a drop of uncoagulated blood.
Clearly not expecting the visitor to be Ye Fan, her pupils contracted slightly and her eyelashes cast delicate shadows beneath her eyes, though she quickly recovered her composure. "Master Ye?"
Chapter 68