On a spring night in the thirteenth year of Yonghe's reign, Mu Yiyi buried a jar of wine under the pear tree in Xiangfu. She never thought that what would come out when she unsealed it ten years later was not the mellow fragrance, but half a blood-stained dragon-patterned pendant, an unsigned marriage certificate, and a black silk knot from the broken Buddhist beads on Xuanyuan Lin's wrist. The fate of the three people was already written in the broken pear blossom.
"Your Majesty, does your Majesty know that this crown is more hot than the cup?" When Xuanyuan Lin crowned her, the beads on her wrist were soaked in the blood of the two of them. The world only saw the cinnabar on the new emperor's forehead like flames, but they didn't know that it was the flower of evil that bloomed after the Heart-Eating Gu drank the lives of the entire Mu clan. He coughed up black blood with a smile and tied his broken hair with a heaven-sacrifice chain - just like she had bandaged the knife wound on his palm.
Yin Ke's Miao sword was unsheathed for the last time, and what he cut off was a bronze mirror engraved with birth dates. Children on the Lingnan Post Road sang a bloody nursery rhyme: "Cinnabar burns the dragon's clothes, green silk binds the grain, the most poisonous pear blossom wine, drunkenly kills the infatuated person." Holding the bright moon ornaments left by Mu Yiyi on the night of giving birth, he split open the stone tablet of the imperial mausoleum in the heavy rain. At the bottom of the tablet lay the walnut cake that the three of them shared when they were 12 years old, and the mold had covered the mark of "the white head never leaves".
On the night of the beacon fire swallowing the moon in Mobei, Mu Yi threw three river lanterns into the furnace one by one. The flames licked out the truth buried by the years:
Xuanyuan Lin's lamp: "I would like to burn my bones as a ladder to send you on your way to the blue clouds."
Yin Ke's ink: "Gan transforms the spirit at the bottom of the sword, guarding the snow on your temples."
But what she wrote back then was actually: "I would rather bear the spit of all ages and teach the universe to be the best."
Intention: I am willing to be like two swans, fluttering their wings to raise a high platform; I am willing to join the branches and burn the sea of evil together; but I hope that the bronze mirror can illuminate all the white spots in the world.