In the predawn hours, before the time of Mao.
At Nanxuan Academy, inside East Fence Small House, the atmosphere briefly sank into a silent quagmire.
The north room was pitch black, and the south room, which had also been dark, suddenly lit up. The dim light, filtered through the window screen, vaguely illuminated three Shuaixing Hall students standing silently at the courtyard gate.
One female, two males.
The female student, frail and slight, blocked the path of the two tall male students.
At that moment, Zhao Rong's smile remained, but he halted, his head still, his eyes slightly shifting right, glancing at Ye Huaijin standing to his front right.
This strict woman's behavior was peculiar.
She held a white porcelain bowl in her left hand in front of her belly and carried a three-tiered lacquer box in her right hand as she emerged from the shadows at the gate.
Inside the white porcelain bowl, there seemed to be a clear liquid, with a dim moon at the bottom of the bowl.
