Who is she, really? A songstress? An assassin? Or a Zhaoyi secluded deep within the palace?
At fourteen, she accepted the name he bestowed upon her and became Rong Ziye. A lifetime of killing, a lifetime in captivity. She thought that this prison called love would finally end on the day Rong Ziye died.
On the day she left, poplar catkins swirled through the air. He said softly, "Don't look back, Yan Xi. Never."
But Feng Chenyuan, only after weathering the vicissitudes of time and tasting every warmth and cruelty of the world, do you finally tell me to let go...
