Xie Wujou, a condemned prisoner in the snowy mountains, coughs up blood against his white robes. Once an imperial tutor, he is also a descendant of the former dynasty. Ninth Prince Xiao Lin, a young cavalryman, seizes him on a snowy night and calls him “Teacher.”
“Teacher, just hold on a little longer. I’ll take you back to the capital to kill them.”
“If I die, you needn’t massacre the city. Just warm a pot of Zhegui wine for me on this day each year. That will be memorial enough.”
He planned the kingdom’s rise for him, calculating every move, yet included his own life in the fatal equation. The other brought the court to its knees, spilling blood at every step, all to rescue his name from the history books.
The peach blossoms had yet to bloom when the snow began to melt. The young man kissed the blood from his lips and murmured with a smile, “Teacher, I’m cold. Warm me up.”
A younger, unhinged wolf pup x a cool, sickly beauty. Love and hate, sweetness hidden in the pain: after all their heartbreak, they finally grow old together.
“Snowbound souls cannot chain two rebellious hearts; spring snow melts, but not the word ‘Teacher.’”
