The words were spoken plainly, without twists or turns, without sidelong insinuations. The palace maids within the building were as silent as cicadas in winter. The room was eerily quiet, and the old, nameless matron stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the ground, her composure unbroken. Even the snow outside seemed to grow hurried in pace under the tension wrought by the elegantly dressed woman's words.
The plump, slug-like figure of the woman quivered uncontrollably. Her body, soft and fleshy, now resembled the ceaseless waves of the sea. The wine cup in her hand fell to the ground with a sharp crash.
She hurriedly picked up the wine cup, her body nearly stiffened in its chair.
