Wang Dashi had just left Yang Ge's house when he vaulted over the courtyard wall and leaped into the neighboring yard.
A wall's distance away.
Yang Ge's home was filled with the festive atmosphere of slaughtering chickens and ducks and the aromatic celebration of stewing and frying meat.
But in this courtyard, what filled the air was the scent of ingot-shaped candles...
A beautify lady, dressed in simple white and wrapped in a sable fur coat, sat alone in the snow-covered courtyard, holding a hand warmer. The pure winter sunlight fell upon her, reflecting a ghastly pale halo around her.
She opened a pair of eyes devoid of light and looked faintly at Wang Dashi as he climbed over the wall.
"Are you satisfied?"
She asked quietly, neither joy nor anger in her voice.
"Not quite satisfied!"