The moonlight seemed to have dimmed, carelessly smearing along the mountain ridge and sketching out jagged shadows, blending with the silence.
Chen Yi's hand was still gently supporting Consort Dong's arm—his subconscious protective gesture earlier now turned into an awkward footnote, making him both annoyed and amused with himself.
Yet, his wife, the Great Yin, stood outside the window, draped only in an outer robe, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed slightly with haste and fright. Chen Yi had wanted to laugh, but then didn't feel like it anymore. He recalled that night when they wrote the character 'Immortal' together, her hand guiding his, embodying transcendence. So-called immortals are those who dwell beyond the mundane world. Yet here she was, beyond those bounds—this place and there seemingly separated by a mountain. She spoke of observing the ever-changing world, the ebb and flow of life, but what she said she often couldn't achieve.
