She was a sinful concubine who crushed a jade bracelet in a cold palace in her previous life. The remaining snow was soaked in blood, and unsent letters from home hung on the branches of dead branches. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the Chuxiu Palace in her late twenties. There was a new willow in the celadon vase on the desk, and the wind lifted up the blank last page of the "Female Commandments" scroll.
That gilt palace mirror penetrates life and death. On the left side of the crack is the abyss of destiny sealed by the red door, but on the right side is the morning light of the bamboo shadow outside the moon cave door. When the red candle at the head of the fire phoenix was about to extinguish, its tail feathers turned into green luan and carried the jade hairpin - in this life, she gave up the illusion of the phoenix crown and the harem, stepped on the broken beads with broken steps, and rewrote the fate of "a broken mirror is difficult to round" with a half-frozen, half-dewed sobriety among the palace walls where power and intrigue were involved.
The final strokes of the word "Ci" scatter into gold powder and ashes, which is the death of the old soul and the nirvana of the new feather. She does not seek honor and favor, but only wants to find a dust-free home in the light and shadow of the double palace gates, so that the wisteria that has not withered can finally cling to the real spring.
