In front of Hanshan Temple.
Ancient trees towered toward the heavens, their canopies a tapestry of dark pines and lush cypresses.
When Ji Qingwu alighted from her carriage, she immediately drew the gazes of numerous worshipers.
Her begonia-red dress had been utterly ruined by Emperor Wu Su, so she had changed into a vivid, crimson gown of silk gauze, patterned with iridescent peonies.
This outfit was even more alluring than yesterday's. As she stood there, her gauze skirt seemed to float like mist.
Ji Qingwu's attire was bright and bewitching, yet her expression was anything but frivolous. She walked into the temple, each step like treading on a dense crimson cloud.
Unlike on the streets the day before, most of the worshipers here were the female members of various households, all dressed in simple and elegant attire.
