The Legitimate Son of Yinreng in the Qing Dynasty: Born in Xian'an Palace at the Beginning

Amma used to be the brightest star on the palace wall, but then she was worn down by the years, well - rubbed into a wrinkled jellybean - The title page of my "Today's Tips: Practical Manual for Drying Ama" reads: Stars will fade easily when soaked in a large dyeing vat in the deep palace. Remember to take them out to bask in the sun regularly, add two spoons of icing sugar, and dust them again. (When Ama's brows turned into pimples, I stuffed the candy cake into his palm.) "They said you were useless -" I clapped my fingers and imitated those people's tone, "they said you lost and should just lie down -" Amma's eyelashes fluttered. "But I know it. You save all the light, save it, and quietly break the ground and sprout." In the grand drama of winning the heir apparent in Kowloon, the supporting actors were busy competing for their share of the drama, while I, Amma, was the only one sitting in the corner, quietly acting like a melting caramel pudding. It doesn't matter. When the whole world forgets to applaud you—— "I'll give you a drum." I opened his tightly clenched hand and stuffed this morning's dewy gardenia into it. The petals are white, like the collar of his riding uniform many, many years ago. (Today's tip: Dry Ama. Remember – those who are afraid of the cold can only smile by putting it on their chest and covering it up 🌸)