"What was today's rain like?" A gentle voice came from Blue Stone Palace behind her.
The lonely years had not worn away the warmth in that voice. The lash of hardship and peril had not made it sorrowful.
It was unlike the rain before her. It was like a hearth indoors, like curling warmth, like a cup of hot tea. Among all the things in this world that made one feel close to them, it was always one of them.
Jiang Wuyou had once been deeply attached to this voice. It carried the memories of warmth from her childhood.
Now she said blandly, "It was probably no different from the rain Elder Brother used to see."
Jiang Wuliang, the Deposed Crown Prince of Great Qi, had been imprisoned in Blue Stone Palace for a full thirty years.
Over thirty years, how many great figures had risen, how many heroes had fallen, how many magnificent stories had unfolded.
From Dao Calendar 3899 to Dao Calendar 3929, some people changed history, while countless others were buried within it. Blue Stone Palace remained Blue Stone Palace, veiled in cobwebs and dust. It watched the human world from a corner lonelier than the Stone Steps.
Yet the voice that emerged from that lonely, cold prison palace had never carried resentment.
"Human eyes understand the most brilliant lies in the world. They deceive the world, and they deceive yourself even more." The voice in Blue Stone Palace said, "Every play of light and shadow you see is confined by your field of vision. Every order you observe has already been cut by your gaze. Your eyes themselves are a colored window—before you see all those things, they have already been defined by you."
"And the so-called definitions you give them are often understandings bestowed upon