Outside the city of Chang'an, Bian Lingcheng was drinking wine in an inn beside the official road, while guards of the Longwu Army were warming themselves by the fire.
They were very unlucky on this trip out of the city. A winter rain soaked everyone. Fortunately, there were many inns for travelers on both sides of the official road outside Chang'an City, so they could change their wet clothes and dry them by the fire.
Bian Lingcheng put down his wine glass, but in his heart he was thinking about what had happened in the palace recently. The emperor and the imperial Concub!ne had sneaked out of the palace several times. Later, word came from Pingkangfang that Mr. Shen had composed a new song, which attracted thousands of people outside Yichun Courtyard. It was said that even Gongsun Da Niang, who had not appeared in public for a long time, danced to the song.
Of course, for Bian Lingcheng, no matter how famous Gongsun Da Niang was, she was old and ugly after all. Even if she was valued by the saint, she was just an old woman who taught a group of dancers to dance in Yichun Courtyard.
What he cared about was the rumor that when Mr. Shen was performing on the street, there was a female performer who played the pipa and could compete with Gongsun Da Niang's Xihe sword dance. Thinking of the fact that the saint and the imperial Concub!ne were not in the palace that day, Bian Lingcheng's hand holding the wine jug trembled slightly.
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