As they passed through the winding covered corridor, the gilded palace lanterns hanging beneath the eaves had long since been lit. Their warm yellow glow filtered through gauzy shades as thin as cicada wings, scattering flecks of light across the bluestone slab path like crushed gold leaf spilled over the ground. They swayed gently in the evening breeze, making the entwined lotus patterns carved into the pillars stand out all the more clearly. Xiao Yan held Nalan Yanran's hand, his fingertips softly tracing the cool lines of her palm. He could clearly feel her fingertips trembling slightly after the battle—an instinctive flutter in the aftermath of disaster. It softened his heart, and he unconsciously slowed his pace, as though afraid of disturbing a fragile treasure in his arms. Even his breathing grew lighter.
The wound on Nalan Yanran's arm had already been carefully treated with the Golden Wound Medicine Xiao Yan carried with him. White gauze was wrapped around it layer upon layer, with the edges neatly tucked in by his attentive hand. It carried a faint minty medicinal scent, stopping the bleeding quickly while easing pain and inflammation. Yet her face still held some of the pallor left by battle, and her lips were pale as well. Only the dependence hidden in the corners of her eyes could not be concealed. She leaned lightly against Xiao Yan's arm, her shoulder tilted slightly toward him as if she had found the safest harbor. Even as she walked, she unconsciously matched his rhythm, every step falling at the edge of his shadow, as though she wished to melt completely into his protection.
The pair of white marble lions outside the main hall gleamed with a cold, hard luster beneath the palace lanterns. Their eyes were carved with vivid spirit and their