The flowers in Yingyue Pond are still falling, but Shen Qingluan has already buried his ten-year love affair in the dust.
She thought that for the rest of her life, she would only stick to the mountains and rivers and not touch love.
But she didn't expect that this Beijing romance had already created a huge storm for her.
The prince's gaze, the war god's sharpness, the valley master's gentleness, and the prime minister's calculations all came to her.
A group of men with power were willing to lower their bodies and bow at her feet.
"Princess, I am willing to serve you."
Shen Qingluan lowered his eyes, there was no trace of lingering in his eyes, only coldness remained.
"You can serve, but there is no need to mention your status."
A vigorous and vigorous competition in Shura Field has since begun.
