Outside of Yangzhou City, the scenery at the Fuchun River was the most beautiful. Within the city, the Thin Lake had the best view. It was already summer, the lake surface with lotus leaves floating, looking as if it were a field. The willow trees by the lake provided some shade, and it was so exquisite it was beyond words.
Just like the years before, the dance troupe of the House of Red Sleeves who were headed to the West-Hill Divine Palace to participate in the Light Sacrifice was staying in the Song Family Manor by the Thin Lake. And just like before, the atmosphere was just as depressing.
As in the last time, the invitation was sent by the fourth steward of the Cui Family. The steward did not put his hand behind his back to hide his broken fingers. Instead, he calmly placed them in front of him, as if he wanted the girls from Chang'an to clearly see what kind of injuries he had suffered because of them.