The courtyard fell silent, yet Bai Long did not leave.
Bao Hou whispered, “Master, just letting them go like this—how will we explain it to the imperial court?”
Bai Long didn’t care at all. “It’s enough to explain things to the Minister of Personnel. No need to answer anyone else. Strange, where is Xuan She? Why so slow?”
He stretched out his hand. “Give it here.”
Bao Hou obediently handed over a bamboo strip and some tattered bamboo paper.
Bai Long remarked casually, “Bamboo paper won’t do for kites; the wind will tear it apart. Use silk fabric instead.”
“Oh,” Bao Hou said, climbing over the wall to the next courtyard.
When he returned, he held a stack of colorful silks, the very cloth used to wipe the coffin of the Ning Emperor’s tomb.
The bamboo strips came alive in Bai Long’s hands.
Within mere moments, he had woven the outline of a mother-and-child macaque kite.
From a needle box, he picked up a red thread and threaded it through the eye of the needle.
Bao Hou watched Bai Long craft the kite with eager eyes, just as sounds finally came from the secret passage.
The secret agents rushed out one by one, holding their waist knives and warily scanning the surroundings.
Upon seeing Bai Long seated calmly in the courtyard, they were stunned into silence.