"Click."
The old copper lock was opened, and the barrier shrouding the outer perimeter dissipated with it.
With a gentle push, the red-lacquered wooden door let out an ear-piercing "creak." It was too old.
Sunlight dispelled the darkness in the room, and dust drifted down in flurries.
The furnishings inside the room were the same as ever, as if nothing had ever changed, but the air was especially foul, and everything was coated in gray.
Song Qingyun subconsciously furrowed his brows. With a sweep of his sleeve, he brushed away all the dust, and the room instantly brightened considerably.
He stepped into the bedchamber. Everything was so familiar; only the most important person was missing.
He came to Song Qingli's dressing table and stood silent for a long while. In the end, he picked up the bronze mirror placed right in the center. Half a fingerprint remained on the frame, and even after nearly two hundred years had passed, it was still clearly visible.
In his mind, the image of her dressing before the mirror appeared involuntarily, and faint ripples stirred in his heart.
He put down the bronze mirror, and his gaze fell on a vermilion-lacquered wooden box on the tabletop that had been sealed with layer upon layer of restrictions.
The instant his fingers touched the surface of the wooden box, the restrictions melted away.
He opened the wooden box. On top lay a safety pendant of blue and white, threaded with an eye-catching red cord, and beneath it was a letter.
It was faintly cool at first touch, but after absorbing the warmth of his palm, it gradually became smooth and gentle, just like the warmth it had in the past.
After hesitating for an instant, he finally picked up that letter:
"To see this letter is