The darkness outside the Mausoleum of Books suddenly grew lighter, not because the sun was about to rise, although it truly was very close to dawn, but because a tinge of green had descended. This was an extremely rich green, brimming with life, so much so that the autumn trees in the Mausoleum of Books all seemed to feel somewhat inferior, their branches bending lower.
It was the Green Leaf, its green leaves fat and tender. From just a glance, one would be able to tell that it had been raised extremely well, never missing out on nutrients or fresh water. The surfaces of its leaves were very smooth. From a glance, one could tell that it had been tended to with great care. If even the smallest amount of dust fell upon it, it would be wiped away as quickly as possible by that most esteemed elder using the most expensive towels.
Chen Changsheng was very familiar with this Green Leaf. In the Li Palace, he had seen it far too many times.