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The break of dawn.
An Chenyu sat early in the courtyard pavilion, her flowing skirt swaying in the breeze like reeds, the silk fabric lightly outlining the contour of her long legs, her embroidered shoes gently swaying like a lazy cat's tail.
She held a book, reading it attentively.
She rarely read books anymore.
So many matters, where was the time?
She should have been resting on the bed as she was severely sleep-deprived.
But too many things were uncertain, and success didn't depend on individuals, so how could she sleep?
Therefore, early in the morning, she woke Ling, asked her to brew a pot of tea, and took a book from her bedside to read in the pavilion.
The book was a poetry collection about love, partings, and the pain of spring and autumn.
