Pseudo-Qing fiction
The white snow and red plum blossoms were still as beautiful as ever. Yun Yinxi leaned against Duanmu Jingyu, slowly raised her hand to touch his face, and said, "Your Majesty, I love you." Her hand fell suddenly, and her eyes never opened again. The umbrella in Duanmu Jingyu's hand suddenly fell to the ground, and he hugged Yun Yinxi tightly. That day, the fine snow was falling, and he cried like a child.
The heart of an emperor is not the most ruthless, only more ruthless.
There is no greater pain for an emperor's wound, only the most painful.
The love of an emperor brings regret in the end...
Intention: