The autumn rain drizzled continuously.
The candle flames of the Nine-branch Lamp flickered faintly in the cold palace.
Shen Yinning opened her eyes.
Her fox-like eyes were scarlet and moist; she lay there expressionless, yet her tears fell like broken strings of pearls, streaming into the pillowcase.
She did not know how long it had been, but suddenly she rose, ignoring the freshly bandaged wound on her head, walking barefoot, pacing back and forth in the bedroom, as if only endless walking could alleviate the overwhelming emotions of the night.
Her shadow cast by the candlelight on the wall appeared lonely and thin.
As the candlelight was stirred by a fine breeze, her shadow stretched into different shapes, sometimes desolate, sometimes twisted, sometimes horrifyingly distorted like an Abi Evil Ghost.
The night rain gradually ceased.
When dawn broke in the east, Shen Yinning finally collapsed to the ground, exhausted.
