It was late at night and quiet. The only light in the dark jail was the flickering of a few dim, dusty oil lamps hanging on the wall.
Ye Jiuge was curled into a ball in her cell with her eyes shut tight. Her long lashes pointed downward like a bushy, small fan.
Her breathing was steady, and she looked as if she had entered dreamland.
The bright-pink Chinese violet in the corner bloomed bit by bit, emitting a thick, murky fragrance.
The jail was still. The warden on night watch and the Crown Prince's guards sat on either side of the cell—one to the left and one to the right. They both leaned against the wall and dozed off.
Suddenly, a light-green smoke wafted through a gap in the door and quickly spread through the whole area.
The dozing warden's body suddenly lost its strength and fell to the ground.
The others, too, dropped to the ground with a "plop," just like how dumplings are dropped into water to be cooked.
