Night deepened.
The haunting notes of a zither rang out beside the garden, while the sounds of play gradually died away.
Linghu Qingmo was driving the larger body, sitting before the wine table with both hands held level, keeping dice suspended in the air. After half a day of practice, he could just barely control the force.
Zhao Ling sat on a couch in her magnificent palace dress, already bored with her best friend's showing off. She merely propped her cheek on one hand, waiting for her star drinking companion to arrive.
By his usual habits, Xie Jinhuan should have been quite punctual. She had even considered how far she should go during their drinks.
Keeping too much distance would seem coy and dull, but getting closer-with Xie Jinhuan's disposition to take any opening he was given, she might well be lying under a man's covers tomorrow morning, applying at the palace for a wedding ceremony the day after, and giving her imperial father a grandson to hold next year. After turning this over and over, Zhao Ling decided to leave all her choices in the wine. Once the drinks flowed freely, she could follow her whims without agonizing over it.
But what no one expected was that this fellow Xie Jinhuan would actually be late.
In the carriage that day, they had clearly agreed to hold a feast that evening to celebrate. Yet night had fallen some time ago, and he still hadn't arrived. Who knew what bewitching potion Doctor Lin had fed him this time-or whether Doctor Lin had been fed one-
With such idle thoughts running through her head, Zhao Ling rose and went to look out the window when Xie Jinhuan still failed to appear. Just as she was growing thoroughly bored, she suddenly spotted a