Qingshianguang
by Han Xiaomo
About This Novel
It's hard to wake up from a spring dream, and I don't recognize you when you first arrive. The winter wind caresses my face and I miss the sunset, and the dusty sunset reminds me of my first skirt. Last night I had a dream about the governor, and the sunny and rainy weather turned to the north. There is only one trace of love in all the tribulations, and love and hate in the world are endless.
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