72 The Writer Of The Edic (2/2)

—but it wasn't the emperor.

This was clear.

Hongyue slid the written edict out of her sleeves and smoothly moved her hands over the printed words. As the ruler, the emperor must write new proclamations daily and evaluate further adjustments sent by the ministers of his court. Having numerous years to practice his penmanship, the strokes would be short and rough due to the volume of work.

The emperor would have to work the brush to the ink and back on the fabric, and it was likely that he would print many characters on a single dip of ink due to the lack of time. This would result in small empty patches and slightly fading strokes.

However, on the edict, the words were clearly calligraphed, and the ink was very opaque as if someone took the time to write the characters. The strokes appeared thin at some points; this meant that the hand holding the brush was both steady and light. It was similar to a hand belonged to someone who had the extravagance of time to relax and slowly letter out their thoughts.

Hongyue frowned and rolled up the scroll. Holding it close to her nose, she gave a sniff —there was a light fragrance, but it was still faintly there.

— a female.

Turning her head back to the carriage seat where the half-buried dagger stood, Hongyue clicked her tongue. Making her way back to where the weapon was embedded in the wooden board of the carriage, Hongyue adjusted her arm and wrapped the body of the little snake around her left arm. The snake didn't protest as it curled around her warm limb tightly with its head awfully still.

Stretching out her hand in a swift, smooth movement, Hongyue uprooted out the weapon and gazed at the strange markings on the side of the blade.

Suddenly, vibrations of rushing footsteps hurried in her direction and Hongyue glanced up.

Her eyes met with the eyes of a middle-aged man dressed in yellow and gold.

The emperor.