In the third year of Qianfu's reign in Chang'an, Liu Xingchedian, the legitimate son of the Liu family in Qinghe, sold the last jade pendant heirloomed around his waist.
He had to use this money to bribe a salt merchant's son in exchange for tickets to the imperial examination.
Yun Xiu tidied his clothes, her fingertips trembling: "Sir, the poem manuscript... Is it really sold?"
The old iron brought Salu, and the peony mat with entangled branches and peonies on the saddle was soaked in blood.
The documents smuggled at the border still smelled like ink, and Liu Xingche turned around and stepped into the glitzy abyss of the Qujiang Banquet.
Three years later, when the plague raged, Yunxiu printed a life-saving prescription on the broken carvings.
The nobles cursed her for being despicable and transgressive, but no one knew that the handwriting on the scarf came from the poem manuscript Liu Xingche sold that year.
Sa Lu was dying and ran back, carrying the strange medicine beyond the Great Wall on her back.
Lao Tie stroked his saddle and said, "It's time to go, young master."
Liu Xingche looked at the sky full of war smoke. The jade pendant had long been replaced by a blood-stained saddle.
The noble gates of Chang'an collapsed behind them.
