"Sister, this cup of Hexin wine... You have to drink it without leaving any drop."
Su Jinli opened her eyes suddenly, and the brocade quilt embroidered with hundreds of descendants was torn open by nails. What is in front of me is not the venomous smile of the concubine Su Yurou in the cold woodshed, but the familiar hibiscus tent in the boudoir three days before the wedding - the lotus sachet that Lu Mingxuan sent the day before yesterday hangs in the corner of the tent.
