Perhaps, in her previous life, she was a calm and calm woman, so this life was doomed to be full of ups and downs. In that cold and desolate palace, she had sparse eyebrows and was alone in the middle of the night. Her plain white skirts overlapped in the cold wind. The light and shadow flowed, leaving only this fallen courtyard and the silent passage of time.
In the indifference and coldness, he finally stared blankly, loved her so much, and finally became entangled. In the yellowing light and shadow, the corners of his mouth outlined a warm arc, but sitting high up, all he saw was desolation.
He had a face as cold and stern as a knife, and he was decisive in killing without mercy. However, inadvertently, a warm shadow walked into his eyes.
In the end, he fulfilled her, and she fulfilled him.
Looking at each other in the shape of the moon, we only envy the mandarin ducks but not the immortals.