On a moonlit night covered by tea smoke, you and I are both the bloody tea leaves in the game. A star map of the genocide suddenly appeared in the tea cake, and ambergris from the former dynasty emerged from the cellar of the inn. The two were forced to hold a bronze book knife together to solve the mystery - when the blade cut through the tea brick, it also carved a poisonous blood contract on each other's wrists.
When the roots of the thousand-year-old tea tree twist the bones, and when the purple bamboo shoot tea paste turns into a heart-eating gu, in this spy war across the six ethnic groups in the southwest, the most deadly thing is not the venom of the green-scaled snake, but the sentence hidden in the tea soup: "If I am really a traitor, will you cook me with your own hands and use it as medicine?"
In the tea smoke and beacon fire, love and killing intent boil together. You and I are both the hottest poisonous wine in the opponent's chess game.
