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Immortal Lord Mo Bei never felt that he was connected to the world. After all, for hundreds of years, everything changed and he was alone after all.
Disciple Yun Shen only felt that his Master Xianjun was definitely a duplicitous, morally corrupt, and heinous soul. She even called him sister, but actually——
"Sister, didn't you say you wanted to love me?" Mo Bei blinked, held Yun Shen's hand, and touched his mask, which was cold.
"Master?" Yun Shen was trembling and forced, reluctantly unmasking the person in front of her. The familiar yet unfamiliar feeling made her whole body feel bad.
This is a story - from the south of the Yangtze River to the northwest, from the courtyard to the quilt.
Intention: As the clouds age, the north wind blows