Song Jinglan shook his head and smiled before he raised his palm and touched hers lightly. Lin Feilu was dissatisfied, so she held onto his wrist and clapped her short hand on it.
She was only satisfied when she heard the clear slap between the two palms, “We swear upon the high five, don’t forget it!”
He retracted his hand and looked down at the slightly reddening marks on his palm, smiling.
On the way back to the Cuizhu Villa, Song Jinglan met the guard that lurked in the shadows of the night. He was dressed in black and was hidden between the tree canopies as the sound of his breathing couldn’t even be heard at all. The vigilant guards walked under the tree without noticing that there was someone overhead.
When the guards left, he didn’t leave in a hurry either.
The moonlight on a spring night gilded the entire palace with a layer of silver splendor, giving it both deserted and graceful appearance. Looking around, the lightly illuminated structure was majestic and gorgeous.
The former Great Lin Empire was regarded as an uneducated land of barbarians who could do nothing but fight fiercely. Today, generation after generation, it was now the orthodox capital of the world as everyone was flocking towards it.
Song Jinglan looked at the villa that stood calmingly amidst the night. He smiled silently with the corners of his lips hooked.
The black shadow swept across the air swiftly; not even the birds were disturbed.
When Song Jinglan returned to the Cuizhu Villa, Tiandong was sitting in the dark room and taking a nap. When he heard a voice outside the door, he quickly got up and turned on the lamp, “Your Highness, you’re back?”
As soon as the lamp was lit, he realized that someone was already standing inside the house.
Tiandong almost fainted out of fright and lost his voice for a moment, “Mr. Ji, when did you come in?”
Jiliang stood there holding the sword. As if he were a ghost in the night, he said expressionlessly, “When you sleep-talked your third sentence.”
Tiandong covered his mouth, “I never talk when I sleep!”
Song Jinglan pushed open the door and came in. Upon seeing Jiliang, he smiled, “Uncle Ji is back.”
Jiliang took out a letter from his clothes and handed it to him. Wordlessly, he then flew out of the window without making a sound.
Tiandong patted his chest and said, “Mr. Ji’s kung fu is getting more and more unfathomable— he doesn’t make a sound when he flies!” He leaned over again, looking at the letter in Song Jinglan’s hand, and asked in a low voice, “Young Master Rong replied?”
Song Jinglan took the letter and lightly patted him on the head with it. Tiandong pouted, but soon, he went out to boil some hot water for the Prince’s bath.
When the room fell silent, Song Jinglan walked to the side of the desk and sat down, slowly opening the envelope. Familiar handwriting and frivolous sentences greeted him; the beginning of the letter was something that he had seen countless times.
After watching for a while, Jiliang, who was elusive, flew in from the window once more. He stood behind the Prince and said in a low voice, “Rongyan said that the person you want to win over is being a bit difficult, but he will find a way to send some men into that hellhole to accomplish your goals. He is unsure if this trick would work, but should it fail, ridding them would be of priority— so you should choose another person in advance as a backup.”
Song Jinglan nodded and said warmly, “Thank you, Uncle Ji, for painstakingly relaying our correspondence for a year.”
Jiliang, “It’s no hard work at all. I’ve improved a lot on my Qinggong, anyways.”
After speaking, he disappeared without a sound.