```
She was immersed in her own world, laughing strangely, completely oblivious to the frantic cries of Lin Qianqing by her side, and to how Madam Lin was urging the maids to stoke the brazier to flare up more vigorously, and to fetch the fox fur from her carriage.
Elsewhere, behind the statues of the Dragon King and Dragon Mother, was a spacious hall where an elderly man with white hair, clad in a Daoist robe, was burning a piece of yellow paper with a whisk. The material of that yellow paper was unknown, for the flame it produced was not of a normal color, but a translucent blue that was strikingly beautiful.
The flame licked the delicate yellow paper, ready to reduce it all to ashes, when suddenly the hall doors burst open, a gust of cold wind swept through, and snuffed out the half-burned fire outright.
The elder's brows furrowed, and he looked up at the person who had opened the door.