Guan Fusha was in the study, going through letters sent back by her spies. She had just picked up her brush when she realized there was no ink in the stone inkwell.
“Ah Tian, come grind some ink.”
“…”
Ah Tian was standing by the window, wiping a vase with a cloth in absent-minded strokes. Her gaze wasn’t even on the porcelain. Clearly, her mind was somewhere else entirely.
After waiting quite a while without seeing her come over, Guan Fusha called again.
“Ah Tian.”
Ah Tian’s expression was vacant, her hand still mechanically rubbing at the vase while...
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