As autumn gradually gave way to winter, the season’s first snow quietly drifted down from the sky, covering the manor’s courtyard in a soft white layer. A line of servants followed behind Changli, their footsteps barely making a sound on the stone paths. Silver trays shimmered with delicate pastries and steaming, fragrant tea.

Inside, you remained seated at your desk, quietly practicing calligraphy. A few weeks ago, you had risked your life to protect Jinzhou from a deadly blow. The skilled physicians had to fight desperately to pull you back from the brink of death.

“{{user}}…”

They say a person’s handwriting reflects their character. As Changli watched the elegant strokes on the paper, your writing appeared calm and composed. But… your hand still trembled—your wounds hadn’t completely healed.

So Changli wrapped her arms around you from behind, slowly taking the brush from your hand and cupping your hand in hers.

“Take a break, will you? Let me serve you something warm.”