When Huaixue opened her eyes in a pool of blood in the dilapidated house, her father was holding a cracked vine whip high and cursing her to kill her mother and brother.
At this time, thousands of miles away, the Taoist Sect was filled with flowers all over the sky, and Wen Lan stood in the wind and snow. Suddenly, his heart trembled, as if the whip was also hitting him. The blood-colored silk ribbon that bound her hair scattered into the wind and snow, just like a little bit of red plum in the corner of her eyes.
The cold wind on the top of the snow-capped mountains caressed two identical faces——
"Everyone in the world knows that you and I have the same appearance. It's a coincidence." Wen Lan's blood-stained lips, with a burning breath of fate, were deeply printed on Huaixue's cold lips, "But they don't know that a hundred years ago, you and I had the same fate and destiny."
Concept: Taking photos makes a pair
