The cold wind blew gently in the pitch-black, middle of the night. The black clouds shrouded the moon and only a few stars glowed faintly in the sky.
Deep in thought, Han Moze sat on the rooftop above the tallest hall of the imperial palace. His long, black hair drifted in the gathering cold winds. He wore black garments and had a handsome face like the ones in paintings. He wore nothing but an ice-cold expression on his face.
On the stairway, not too far from the palace hall, stood Lian Jiuhua and Le Zhengyu silently.
Le Zhengyu raised his head and smelt the dampness in the air. "Lian Jiuhua, it's about to rain! Let's head back!" He said in a soft voice.
"Alright. Let's head back. Besides, there's no use in us standing around here anyway. We can't help."
With that said, he leapt onto the horse.
In the end, Le Zhengyu glanced at the dark silhouette on the rooftop, then turned around before galloping out of the imperial palace.
