When Song Zheyu was dragged out of the brothel fire, he only held half of the burnt green plum branch tightly in his arms.
The immortal who handed him the new clothes had clear eyes and clear eyes, but his fingertips avoided his touch: "When you enter my sect, you must abide by the rules."
He said yes with a smile, turned around and buried the bloody underwear in the flowerbed under Shen Qingyan's window——
"Since I feel dirty, I let the spring scenery in this garden be stained with my filthy smell."
Intention: None