Su Shijun stood by the window, resting her chin on her arm, her gaze dreamily fixed on the plant in the flowerpot before her.
It was a cluster of Seven-color pansies.
Legend had it that this flower possessed magical effects; by plucking one of its petals and chanting a spell, it could fulfill a wish. Of course, such fairy tales were only believed by young apprentices who had not yet come of age. For an adult witch like Su Shijun, who had already surpassed the level of a registered wizard to become a Big Wizard, this cluster of Seven-color pansies was merely relatively nice to look at.
The winter sun lacked the brightness of spring and the brilliance of summer and was somewhat more subdued. Yet within this subdued light, it contained infinite flavors—like the salt in soup, a small amount, but indispensable. With the sunlight, even in the cold wind, there was added hope, helping to kindle a bit of vitality from the depths of people's hearts.
