That night, the moonlight was dim, the silver light was scorching, and the sight was covered with red makeup and devastation.
My sister was dressed in a gorgeous wedding dress, dancing gracefully like a fairy in the forest. The begging woman's face turned ferocious just a moment ago. The gongs and drums outside the house were playing, and the suona was rising into the night sky. The wedding banquet where thousands of people gathered together became melancholy in Wan Xin's eyes.
When she escaped from the sea of fire and rushed out with half of her makeup on her face, he hugged his sister and slept in the wedding room. Is she too stupid or too stupid? He is no longer worthy of trust now.
Three years ago, she was the youngest daughter of the Chen family who only wanted to have "long hair tied to your heart". Three years later, she was Mu Wanqiu, a talented girl who became famous in Kyoto. One is cunning and clever, the other is as quiet as a virgin. Time has passed, but it turns out that they are still not as good as the cinnabar of your eyebrows. If there is no love, how can there be hatred. Obsession and entanglement are ultimately unsatisfactory.
It's just that a drop of cold tears in the corner of your eye is mottled, and the clean eyes cannot see the joy of the past. Is your heart still like mine?