The sky brightened, and the Imperial Palace was a scene of devastation.
Even the most magnificent of buildings seem fragile like a newborn in the face of a natural disaster.
However, while the jade towers and golden halls are vulnerable, it is the people of this land who are resilient.
Gu Lan was covered in dirt, which hadn't been cleaned, her dark hair disheveled and casually tied with a ribbon, a few strands obscuring her eyebrows, making her look quite untidy.
She stretched lazily, her expression somewhat listless, her eyes lacking their usual brightness.
Her hand rose and fell, cleanly excising the inflamed blood from the wound of an injured eunuch, as if tireless.
A bead of sweat slid down her nose and fell to the ground, yet Gu Lan's expression became even more indifferent.
The old imperial doctor watched with his heart pounding, feeling that Gu Lan's blade wasn't saving lives but rather seemed to want to cut someone.
