In the afternoon, the autumn sun poured over the Prince Wei's Mansion. The weather in September was still quite hot, and besides the servants, no one was willing to expose themselves to the sunlight. A gentle breeze swept through, bringing a refreshing autumn coolness to the mansion.
In the rear courtyard of Xia Zhiqing's chamber, the doors and windows were tightly shut, but the room was brightly lit.
There was no incense burning in the room, yet a fragrant aroma lingered.
On the soft couch, although in a metaphorical battlefield it was her sister Zhi Ning, Xia Zhiqing felt her own delicate body heating up and becoming weak.
It was because every time the young man launched an offensive against Zhi Ning, Xia Zhiqing could clearly feel it and could hear the crisp sound of bamboo breaking behind her.
