Jinmei Crossing

Pure Abuse Her dancing sleeves hide a family tomb, and his prayer beads are entangled with a wisp of irredeemable sin. That snowy night, Yan Qingshu, the dancer from Pingkangfang, was humiliated and frozen to the bone at the door of her enemy's house. A monk's robe with sandalwood came from the other side of the wind and snow - the man wearing the robe was the son of the censor who framed her family. Now the master of Buddhism in Jingye Temple, his common name is Xie Mingjue. "Donor, the wind is tight here." "I can't bear the mercy of your Xie family!" An encounter that started as a blood feud grew in the plum forest of Jingye Temple. Yan Qingshu presented him with prickly care, which was a pastry for atonement and a dance of questioning. Xie Mingjue gave her silent protection, which was the ointment for bruises and the old scars on her wrists from self-punishment when copying menstruation late at night. "What the Xie family owes you, I will repay in my lifetime." "You can't afford it." "I know." When the Xie family finally fell due to the evidence collected by Yan Qingshu over the past eleven years, the warm breeze from the south of the Yangtze River and the lost relatives were calling. There is a light in her eyes that she has not seen in ten years: "If you are willing, come to Jiangnan to find me." His heart felt hot, but he only clasped his hands and lowered his eyebrows: "Donor, it's a smooth journey here." It is said that fire turns to ashes, but why is it that deep in the ashes, the plum blossom with sin as soil and watch as nourishment blooms more and more fiercely every year? This is a forbidden love waiting to bloom in the ashes. Should he save her or save himself? On the day when the plum blossoms bloom, the answer lies in the wind and in the difficult-to-reach Jiangnan.