The setting sun was like blood. Lin Yan held on to the wall of Zhuque Street and panted violently. The hem of his linen clothes was soaked with sweat. He looked at the majestic Taiji Palace in the distance, the copper bells on the eaves jingling in the dusk, and then he was convinced that he had really returned to Chang'an City in the first year of Zhenguan...
Very pretty, come on