"My lord, all preparations are complete."
It was Tang Shaogong.
His voice was very distinctive.
Emotionless, without warmth, like an icicle on a branch in winter that might fall accidentally and slide down one's neck, causing an involuntary shiver.
Pei Jue hmmed, and his quick footsteps immediately disappeared from Feng Yun's hearing.
All around was quiet.
Only Xiaoman and a few palace attendants stood by his side.
Feng Yun's gaze slowly turned to the coffin; he bent over and tossed a few pieces of paper money into the brazier...
The flames licked upwards.
Burning fiercely.
-
Tang Shaogong, much older than Pei Jue, had a face like it was covered in frost, from which no one could easily discern any emotion, steady and mature.
"What percentage of confidence does my lord have?"
Pei Jue's originally rapid footsteps abruptly halted.
Turning his head to look, he said: "One hundred percent."
Tang Shaogong's eyes slightly flickered.
