The Fairy Princess: Phoenix Crying in the Sky

Two moons hang in the sky on the glazed tiles, and the cake-stealing girl in the imperial kitchen is forced to take charge of the world. When the edict of passing the throne fell from Qianlong's broken jade pendant, the Golden Palace of the Forbidden City was stained with rouge for the first time - the former demon king Xiao Yanzi was actually the legacy of Feng Mai and Xia Yuhe from the previous dynasty. The dragon chair has not yet been warmed up, but three eyes have already woven into a tender web that traps the new emperor: Yongqi has taken off her yellow belt and is willing to work as an imperial guard, and the soft sword on her waist always kills assassins for her in the middle of the night; Ertai is in charge of the punishment department but secretly hides her half-bitten candied haws, and the words in the code are full of young people's thoughts; Benjamin's Western paintbrush records the arc of the golden hairpin falling from her temples, and a reminder letter from a Vatican secret agent is pressed under the parchment. Murder is everywhere inside and outside the red wall, and the curse of the hen Si Chen and the auspicious farce of the white deer are staged in turn. The little swallow tore up the love letter with her cinnabar-stained fingertips, but could not tear through the triple love network - Yongqi's sleeve arrows shot down the Turkic arrows for her, Ertai's sharp words blocked the bright guns in the court for her, and Benjamin's glass mirror refracted the Western artillery fire into the sky. When Lafayette's poisonous wine collided with Xiao Jian's Jianghu order, and when the Queen's witchcraft doll was entangled with fragrant butterflies, the girl who had memorized "The Ancient Military March" as a guide for roast chicken finally understood that approving memorials was more difficult than climbing over the palace wall, and loving one person was more difficult than hating the whole world. The Nine-layered Palace was falling down, and someone saw three strands of blue silk lying beside the empress' pillow: one tied with a mint sachet, one wrapped around a broken page of "Mencius", and one soaked in Venetian perfume. The historian's trembling pen was hanging in the air, and he dared not finish the sentence - "On that day, the emperor and the three young masters went to Mulan Qiuyi together, and they did not return home at night."