The previous dynasty collapsed, the country was divided into north and south, and ruled by dividing the river. The North and the South are in confrontation, with undercurrents lurking in each other.
Qin Chan, the third daughter of Qin He, a doctor in the Ministry of Rites, lived in You'an Temple outside the city to lead Buddhist monks and practice Buddhism. She spent her days lighting up ancient Buddhas, copying scriptures and burning incense.
The world only knows that she has an indifferent temperament and has only a few relatives, but they don't know that beneath the scrolls of scriptures lies the secret order of the Southern Kingdom. Behind the sandalwood smoke, there are hidden blood stains on her body that she had treated during the day.
Qin Chan put down her pen and hid the traces of the corpse she had just dealt with in a hidden compartment.
There was still a trace of fishy smell on her fingertips, so she washed her hands in the copper basin. The water was cold to the bone - just like the spring and autumn sun and moon when she lurked in this northern country. The candle flame flickered, illuminating half of Qin Chan's face - white skin, dark eyebrows, and a hint of vermilion between her lips, like a trace of blood falling on the snow.
She raised her eyes and looked out the window at the vast outline of the palace.
The beads turned around in his fingers. Qin Chan let out a gentle breath, and white mist filled the scroll in front of him.
Because the most bone-gnawing love and hate are often born between the most compassionate eyebrows and the quietest murderous intent.
"Main context"
▸ She is a craftsman from the Southern Kingdom, working at the core of power in Northern Liang for the great cause of restoring the country.
▸ He takes his deep love as a prisoner, and she enters the game with false intentions, but she doesn't know that the chess has reached the middle of the game, and her sincerity will be messed up early.
"Style Tonality"
▸ The ancient style of machinations is the bones, and the pull of emotions is the blood.
▸ A sense of taboo and a sense of fate intertwined
Intention: A hundred times of steel turned into softness around the fingers
