The cold moon is like frost.
The wind squeezed in through the gaps in the high walls of the palace, screaming like a whistle. There were no lights in the main hall, and only the pale moonlight outside the window gave the figure kneeling on the ground a layer of death.
Xiao Jue stood in the shadow. He held a glass of wine in his hand.
The jade wine glass was as cold as a stone fished out of the river bottom in late winter. The liquid in the cup was dark and thick, and when it swayed, it could hardly hang on the wall of the cup. This is the "pulling machine" that he personally adjusted for her. There was bleeding from the seven orifices at the entrance, and within three days, the intestines were pierced and the belly was rotten and he died.
Enough to punish a spy.
