——Copywriting of this article——
The day that modern medical student Shen Ruxi traveled through time holding a blood-stained scalpel coincided with the Qintian Prison observing Yinghuo Shouxin.
The seventh prince who was dying in the cold palace had a crescent moon birthmark embedded in his collarbone, which matched perfectly with the scars on her body that she had stitched up by her previous life.
According to historical records, in the autumn of the 19th year of Yonghe, the demon star appeared and died within seven days.
On the night when the new emperor ascended the throne, the dusty "Historical Records" of the Taiyuan Hospital was flipping through the pages. Two gilt sycamore leaves fell from the yellowed pages, and ice crystals condensed into two lines of anatomical terms:
The apex of the left ventricle always faces the fifth intercostal space——
Just like my rusty blade, always pointed at you with paranoia
When the scalpel meets the peacock feather, we write a life-and-death contract at the foot of the history book
Intention: We have become each other's most perfect anatomical specimens, embedded in the folds of history, forming wounds that will never heal.