The red candle flickered, making the room as scarlet as blood.
In front of the bronze mirror, Ye Lanshan was sitting on her knees on the ground, her wrists were locked with a cold iron chain, and the other end was nailed firmly into the wall.
Her plain white wedding dress has not yet been changed, but it has been stained by the dust and blood from the dragging process, like a white lotus that has been stepped into the mud.
The Hexin wine was poured on the corner of the table. Half of the glass was not drunk. The wine slowly slid down the carved wooden table and dripped on the ground, making a subtle but clear sound.
The drizzle was pattering outside the window, tapping on the window lattice, like the indifferent countdown of fate.
She looked at the pale face in the bronze mirror - her eyebrows were cold, her lips were bloodless, but her eyes were fixed on the reflection in the mirror, as if she wanted to see through the body.
