The moon rises above the west tower, and the lights are like broad beans.
In the warm pavilion in the west wing, Wu Qingyan was leaning on a flower chair. Although she was holding a shoe in her hand, as if she was trying to calm down, in fact, her full thoughts had already flown towards the figure that kept shaking on the study window pane.
It was almost four o'clock in the morning, and her heart had not been at peace for a moment since the group of men wearing bamboo hats and shrouded in pitch darkness entered the Mu Mansion. Her eyelids twitched involuntarily, and she let out a painful moan. Without noticing, the sharp needle tip pierced into her finger flesh. When she raised her hand, she saw bright red blood beads rolling down from her finger tips and dripping on the snow-white skirt, blooming into a gorgeous petal like a red plum.
Conception: