"What if I want you to kneel and listen?"
In the military office on a snowy night, Yan Ling's silver spear opened the lapel of the account official, and the gold beads rolled down the charcoal basin and exploded into sparks. Three days ago, three hundred carts of military rations in northern Xinjiang were replaced with sand, and the starving soldiers gnawed through the bridles of their war horses.
Regent Xiao Zhi broke the dead silence in the hall, and Xuan Diao's collar was stained with mold: "Private transfer of the garrison is tantamount to conspiracy."
She smashed the jade pendant into his chest with her backhand - it was his lost token of love, with "The owner shall be punished" newly engraved on the back.
Ten years ago, he broke off the engagement with his own hands, and she broke the jade love crown in the palace palace;
Ten years later, he was forced to marry with an imperial edict, and she tore up the marriage certificate in court: "How much harder are your knees than the frozen bones at the border?"
"I want you to see it with your own eyes," her blood-stained combat boots ran over the iron certificate of the alchemy book, "How can you kneel down to ask for a marriage that you couldn't achieve back then?"
The yellow sand on the battlefield covered the entangled clothes, and he blocked the poisoned arrows for her: "Yan Ling, if I am willing to bend my waist..."
She cut off his blood-soaked shirt and chuckled: "It's too late, my waist - I only kneel to the mountains and rivers, but not to the king."
