Pei Jue even wrote his last letter like a delivery note. The house in the south of the Yangtze River, the land deed held on behalf of the family, and enough money to settle down for the rest of his life. At the end of the letter, there was only a cold and hard sentence: "Do not return to Beijing, and you will live in peace for the rest of your life."
They were married for three years. Love is real; but his determination to forcefully arrange the rest of her life and block her from the truth is also real.
That night, Cui Yanqing looked at the glass of cold wine on the corner of the desk to celebrate three years of marriage. Instead of following his arrangement, she threw the Jiangnan land deed into the brazier.
"I won't leave."
Pulling out the golden hairpin from his hair, he replaced it with the half of broken jade stained with his dried blood. Cui Yanqing opened the door and walked alone into the dark night of heavy rain in Kyoto. The old accounts of the Menxia Province, the agarwood shop in Fubei, nine hidden doors that are difficult to distinguish between true and false, and a book of the dead filled with the names of dead soldiers... Since he refused to tell, she would check it out herself; since the network he left behind was broken, then she would sit down and personally write to take over the murderous underground Chang'an.
Until one day, a seriously injured man with the same old scar as Pei Jue fell in front of her. In the darkness, the man called out in a hoarse voice: "Yanqing." The tip of the knife in Cui Yanqing's hand pressed against his throat and did not move away.
——Pei Jue, I don't want the rest of my life that you decided for me. ——Now that this fire has been lit, sir, none of us can sleep tonight.
