There are three thousand weak water, but I can only take a scoop from you. This is what the seventeen-year-old she heard outside the Chonghua Hall, which was in flames.
Then, she saw the woman who looked at the young king lovingly fall into the sea of fire.
Her beautiful face reflected in the firelight was like a mandala blooming by the Santu River.
She thought at that time that Qingcheng was probably nothing more than this.
When she doesn't understand love, she still doesn't understand its meaning.
Only when she truly experienced it did she realize how painful the word love is.
Concept: the story of a group of people.