That night when blood flooded Shuofengyuan, the golden bell on Wu Yunna's wrist shattered the solemn atmosphere of the military camp. She is the sharpest sword of the ancient slaves. Jiang Zhuer gave her the prince's sincerity, and General Yan gave her the warmth of his iron armor in return.
When the moonlight in the Gui Palace saw the new concubine's face, everyone thought that the pearl of the prairie had become a bird in a cage, but they did not see half of the tiger talisman clutched by the infant baby, and they did not know how the chainmail and skirt were soaked with the scent of the Western Regions in the candlelight flickering in the general's mansion every night.
When the death knell rang in the Jiuchong Palace, Yan Hui's shirt at the foot of the stairs was still stained with ice. When he looked up, he saw that the rouge he had crushed into pieces had stained the map of the territory of the Thirty-Six Prefectures red.
Intention: self-improvement