Sitting languidly on his chair with a cup of strong wine in his hand, there was a layer of weariness on Taizong's face while watching the nocturnal autumn wind puff out and penetrate the curtains.
"Fear is a good inducement to madness," Taizong sneered, his eyes lowering down to the small wooden box engraved with the most unfamiliar style of characters; and drinking more wine as he examined it.
He, who sent someone to infiltrate the Empress's quarters, knew that she would have another psychotic episode after seeing the content of the box—a rather puzzling content.
Taizong had the intuitive certainty that the thing inside, by itself, could not have produce such a violent response. However, such was the meaning of the thing inside that his mother had to be sedated by the physician.
