The waves in Citong Harbor are always wrapped in sweetness.
The twelve golden hairpins hold more than just magic weapons - Ah Ying's gold leaf hides the mother's soul, Ah Shuang's chain fire burns with fragments of tin utensils, and Dong Ling's embroidery thread wraps around fragments of her finger bones. They protect not only children, but also the eryngium seedlings planted by mothers with their soul blood.
Garona's purple root always digs into the sweet spots, stealing the smiles of children and the thoughts of nibbling on golden hairpins, but she doesn't know that the scar on her brow bone is embedded with the maltose that Yingmei stuffed back then. Under the skinny monk's torn robe, the scars are as hot as the sugar residue; when the fat cat's sharp claws cut away the evil spirit, the sweet scent of the cat's fur is originally the obsession of Yingmei's soul pet.
When the sweet seeds and purple roots of the ancient gods were entangled in a knot, and when the souls of mothers trembled in the magical instruments, the new Jinchai understood: there are always two flavors floating in the wind in southern Fujian - the strongest killing moves, wrapped in the warmest sweetness; the deepest scars, with the toughest flowers.
And hidden under the keel of the Guixu, in addition to the evil fetus, there are twelve mothers who have not spoken:
"Girl, you have to earn your own sweetness."
