"Qingyan, Qingyan!" Gong Ruruo's lilting call drifted from afar. "Qingyan..." The voice drew closer. A figure came with the wind, gradually becoming clear, until the voice was right beside her. Mo Qingyan glanced back with a faint smile, her beauty dazzling.
"Ah...! You really shouldn't smile. You're much better when you don't," Gong Ruruo often told Mo Qingyan. One of them meant it, while the other's words simply went with the wind. The past is always the past. Who knows whose story, whose sorrow, lies in the pile of dry bones by the sea cliff? The beauty has become a dry bone... Yet the faint imperial might she exudes makes no one dare to trespass!
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
