"Bianji, can I go and save you in the next life? You are not allowed to talk about 'the unspeakable' anymore. In the next life, you will not be a monk, and I will not be a princess."
The wind broke through the window and the white silk brushed my cheek. I smiled, as if I was back to the year when I was fourteen and saw Bianji for the first time. Under the magnolia tree, he wears a gray gown, a handsome and indifferent face, and a slight frown between his brows, revealing his feelings in a subtle way.
Conception: