In the Beiyang years when wars were raging, there was a young Miss Zhao who was famous in the south of the Yangtze River and was raised in a deep house in Jinling City. The world only knows that the daughter of the Zhao family is as cold as frost, but they don't know that every night deeper and deeper, there will always be a lone figure in military uniform standing quietly outside the moon gate.
He is Zhao Zhen, a young commander in charge of a side. He has been decisive in killing all his life, but he stayed in front of her window all night for the shadow of a light that was not extinguished. In the incense in front of the Buddha, he asked the gods in a mute voice: This heart that knows it cannot be done but does it, is it a delusion that should be crushed, or is it the only sincerity that dares to recognize in troubled times.
And inside the window, Zhao Daining was burning incense in silence. She was his nominal sister, and she was also a wisp of smoke trapped in the incense cage by his own hands - visible, unable to hold, and unable to disperse. She traced his outline through the window paper, falling alone in the surging undercurrent, until the words "Wait for me to come back" were swallowed up by the artillery fire from the east.
The battle report came, and the commander's life or death was unknown. She tore up all dignity and ordered in a hissing voice in the heavy snow:
"No matter life or death, we must find him."
"All appearances are false."
But if there is him in the illusion, I would like to drown in it and never wake up.
Mission: Unity is strength