The night at Zui Chun House had not yet ended, and the body of the oiran was already frozen in front of the dressing table - Ruan Zhaorong picked up the green hairpin with a broken bead head, and Jin stepped on the half-skewed silk entanglement, which was the flaw that the murderer had torn off in a panic last night. The eyes of an actor are used to singing, chanting, and beating in the stands, but they want to reveal the murders buried in the pile of makeup and powder one by one in this wooden shed! From the poisoned wine in the opera troupe to the arsenic at the palace banquet, from the fraudulent ink scrolls in the Jiangnan Gongyuan to the old scars of the extermination of the family twenty years ago, she stepped on the three-inch embroidered shoes and held the opera pen as a knife, making those powerful people who said that "actors are as cheap as mud" knelt down one by one to listen to her sing this song - "Judgment in the Liyuan"!
