Zhu Jing Palace stands at the northeastern corner of the palace, always isolated and quiet within the Great Ming Palace.
No palace attendants approach it, and there are no guards there either. Only a tree and the similarly unpopular Zhu Pond accompany it, and when night falls, the whole palace shrouds in darkness, with the flicker of small candles far from piercing the palace walls.
At times, it is inevitable to feel that even if someone were to die in that solitary palace, it would be silently, unnoticed by anyone, nor would anyone care.
Just past 1 AM, a light rain began to fall from the sky, its silken threads fine as needle tips.
The first rain from winter into spring often comes hesitantly as if having to squeeze through something to descend, awkward and shy. This situation usually lasts a while until the clouds are moistened, and the air grows slippery, leading to a continuous drizzle.
