At the very first hour of dawn, the vast city of Chang'an seemed like an ancient behemoth slumbering in the darkness.,Stars and moon were absent, a cold wind howled, goose-feather snowfall blanketed the streets and alleyways, accumulating on rooftops. A line of carriages carrying flaming torches marched from each neighborhood's just-opened gate, their footsteps muffled by thick snow. They converged on Zhuque Street, forming a grand procession heading towards Chengtian Gate to attend court.,Fang Junqiang endured his worry and grief, picking up a wonton and putting it in his mouth, but he couldn't taste it.。