Dayan, in the winter of the 23rd year of Yong'an, in the cold palace.
On a cold night when dripping water turned into ice, the dilapidated palace door creaked in the cold wind, as if it would fall apart at any moment.
Shen Tang opened his eyes suddenly, and the bone-piercing pain came from his limbs, as if he had been thrown into a meat grinder and ground repeatedly.
She wanted to struggle, but found that her hands and feet had become shorter and smaller, and her whole body was limp.
In sight, the familiar tables and chairs became unusually tall, and even the painted bedposts were so thick that they seemed to burst the sky.
