You are the proud son of heaven, a remnant of the previous dynasty, you call me your master, you are my white moonlight, cinnabar mole, and the person beside my pillow.
I hate you, but that will never outweigh my love for you.
Your Highness, don't make trouble.
Stay with me.
Intention: If the light is still there, I will not let it go out even if I fight through thorns and thorns.