Kangxi Year 35, Deep Winter. In the grasslands of the Left Wing Rear Banner of Korqin, inside a large tent. A young maiden dressed in Mongolian attire was bent over a desk, writing furiously. Stacks of books were piled beside her, and she occasionally turned to flip through them, consulting something. A servant girl passed by, glanced ...
Kangxi Year 35, Deep Winter. In the grasslands of the Left Wing Rear Banner of Korqin, inside a large tent. A young maiden dressed in Mongolian attire was bent over a desk, writing furiously. Stacks of books were piled beside her, and she occasionally turned to flip through them, consulting something. A servant girl passed by, glanced at her, and then turned to add more charcoal to the brazier. She advised, “Princess, you’ve been writing for nearly two hours. Take a break.” An Qing looked up at her briefly, her hand showing no sign of stopping, and replied casually, “No rush, I’m almost done.” Zisu sighed silently to herself. She had heard this same excuse an hour ago. As the personal maid, Zisu was long accustomed to her Princess’s dismissive attitude, but she still felt compelled to keep
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