She wakes from a deep sleep, reborn in the Ming Dynasty, unable to tell the five grains apart or do any hard work. To survive, she slaughters pigs and hunts, but ends up provoking the Imperial Preceptor, a man shrouded in mystery, and gets caught up in a struggle among the royal family.
He still wears purple, his long hair falling naturally down his back, unconstrained. Those brows, those eyes, that appearance. Every time Zhao Le'er sees him, she can't help thinking that if the Moon God truly exists, he must look just like this man before her. Yet now, this moon-godlike figure exudes a sinister, bone-chilling air.
They are part teacher and part friend. He is the person she trusts most. He gives her everything, and takes everything from her, too. His face is as sharply defined as if carved with a knife and chisel, his brows sweeping up toward his temples. His eyes, bright as the morning star, hold the arrogance of one who looks down on all the world, inspiring fear and submission. Beneath his high, straight nose are lips as red as flower petals. His imposing presence makes people step back.
They start out at odds, bickering every three days and having a major quarrel every five. She never imagined that he would quietly protect her, staying by her side without fail when she was at her most vulnerable and desolate.
His smile is gentle. It seems to part the clouds and let sunlight pour through the gloom, warm and untroubled. His face looks as if it were meticulously sculpted. His nose is straight and handsome, his lips perfectly curved, seemingly always on the verge of a smile.
He is her brother, the older brother she reveres most, the one who warms her frozen heart like the sun. And yet, for the sake of power, he becomes a hurricane that extinguishes the only light she has.
