The snow in Chang'an always falls heavier than elsewhere.
The last time Fu Mingyi saw Xie Yunzhou was at Changting on Zhuque Street. At that time, he was still the little General Xie who was envied by everyone in the capital. His silver armor reflected the rising sun, and he pressed the peace charm she had stuffed to him on his chest: "When I come back, I will propose marriage to my uncle." She stood on tiptoe to straighten the tie of his cloak, and the begonia flowers on her temples brushed against his chin, and the wind in the city was sweet.
But the war has not been extinguished for three years, and Chang'an has changed first. The Fu family was accused of collaborating with the enemy and treason, and overnight, half the sky turned red. When she crawled out of the dog hole at the back door, she held half of her father's blood-stained secret letter in her arms, and her fingernails were full of scorched earth. The former Taifu's legitimate daughter became the remnant of the guilty minister, and was sold by traffickers into the "Misty Rain Tower" in Pingkangfang on the way to escape.
Now she is the most mysterious flower girl "Ayi" in the building. She wears the thickest makeup and plays the saddest music, but there is a knife tempered with ice hidden under her eyes. No one knows that she wields her sword in the secret room every night, and when the sword tip cuts through the darkness, what is reflected is the memorial tablets of the Fu family; no one knows that she has already laid a net, and everyone from the teahouse shopkeeper to the soldiers of the Imperial Guard are her informants - she will wait for an opportunity to tear open the mask of hypocrisy in Chang'an.
On this day, a distinguished guest came to Yanyu Tower. The black cloak was stained with frost from the border, and the jade pendant on his waist jingled. It was Xie Yunzhou who was triumphant. He swept through the room full of makeup, and finally his eyes fell on her playing the piano, and his Adam's apple rolled: "Raise your head."
She lowered her eyes and pressed her fingertips into knots on the strings. In the bronze mirror, there was an appearance that he could not recognize; but in the chest, there was hatred and longing.
