In Yanmingyuan in the 13th year of Jian'an, the snow reached the knees.
Yan Sangluo, a poor orphan girl, fed half a bowl of warm water into Xiao Wuji's chapped lips. The man covered in blood opened his eyes, his gaze as sharp as a blade. He used a broken old sword to protect her all the way and pulled her up from the mire.
Later, the ranger stepped into Mingguang Palace. The twelve crowns pressed down on his once unruly shoulders.
The shadow of the powerful minister Wei Cang shrouded Dayin. Xiao Wuji sat on the dragon chair, watching Yan Sangluo being pushed to the back of the limelight, and watching his eldest son abandon his life and kneel down in the snow and be humiliated. He shook off Yan Sangluo's pleading hand, turned around and stepped into Concubine Wei's bedroom. He set up a dragnet in the royal study and endured for ten years, waiting for the moment when the sword would be unsheathed and the obstacles would be cleared.
The snow in Weiyang Palace has been falling for ten years.
When Wei Dang's poisonous wine was brought to the eldest son, Xiao Wuji's secret guards were crouching outside the palace, waiting for the opportunity to seize the stolen goods.
Yan Sangluo picked up the glass of wine, stood in front of Qi Sheng, raised his head and drank it. The venom penetrated the throat, and the blood covered the red phoenix robe.
The powerful ministers were executed, and Dayin was resurrected. Xiao Ling became a wise king who was surrendered to all over the world.
In the empty Mingguang Palace, the emperor sat alone on the throne, clutching the old rusty sword in his hand. The wind and snow howled outside the palace, and the only people who responded to him were a prince who hated him to the core, and a lonely grave that could never be awakened again.
Intention: Cowardice and calculation in the name of love will eventually encounter the cruelest backlash of fate.