I am the most famous pipa master in the Tang Dynasty, and I moved Chang'an with my song "Broken Willow".
On the night of the imperial performance, the candlelight in the Golden Palace was flickering, and my hand that plucked the strings suddenly froze.
The new commander of the imperial army standing beside the dragon chair, the one in his left eye
Dao Scar looked exactly like the enemy my father described before he died.
When the song ended and everyone left, he stopped in front of the sedan chair on which I was returning home, stroking the handle of the knife at his waist with his fingertips: "Girl's "Zhe"
"Willow", missing the last sound of killing. "
I squeezed the poison-quenching silver needle with my hand hidden in my sleeve: "Big
People joke that the little girl only knows how to be romantic, but doesn't know how to kill. "
He chuckled and suddenly grabbed my wrist: "Really? But your tuning hands..."
"It's obviously stained with blood.
