The woman was dressed in moon-white brocade, with a cluster of red flames on her forehead. The moonlight shrouded her around her, and the mountain breeze and mist made her clothes rise slightly, like a banished immortal who was not stained by the worldly world.
She suddenly remembered the young man dressed in black, riding a horse and playing in the world many years ago.
Look at these troubled times, who is in charge?