At the time the man left with his order, the hall was filled with a burst of heaving.
While the crowd sighed in relief, Chen Rong’s feet went soft, and she almost dropped to the ground. Only now did she discover that the perspiration on her forehead had seeped into her eyes, stinging them immensely.
She looked down and slowly released her right hand from which a few drops of scarlet spilled onto the floor – the hairpin had jabbed her palm because she’d been too nervous.
Footsteps pattered outside.
Almost suddenly, Chen Rong discovered that everyone’s attention had turned to the entrance. The Prince of Nan’yang was repeatedly calling: “Quick, open the door, open the door.”