The apricot blossoms in Chang'an once fell on the young man's shoulders. At that time, she and he counted the fireflies, thinking that the years would go on like this.
Until the fire licked the red door, burning all the warmth into ashes. Her pain has not yet scabbed over, but the prince's betrothal gift has already blocked the door, bringing with it the chill of power.
Red makeup is a shackles, and his indifference is worse than the cold winter. The concubine's smile and her father's blood left deep marks in her heart.
Years later, she was attacked on the street, and a figure wearing a ghost mask protected her behind her. The look in his eyes was so familiar that it made her heart tremble - there seemed to be a glimmer of light moving in the ashes.
Purpose: revenge