"What he stole was not the moonlight, but her soul hanging on the edge of fate."
On the top of Qingye Mountain, Lu Yi held a moonlight fan against Ming Lord's throat:
"Shen Qiye, do you want the Condensing Moonlight or the Burning Heart Moonlight this time?"
She doesn't know——
The fan sealed the memory of her tears that day,
Half of the soul that had been separated from the fan was frozen in the black ice on his chest.
Not to mention that when the twelfth moon soul returns to its position,
The evil thoughts sleeping in the ice coffin will open their eyes...
Intention: Forgetting is the sharpest blade, and there are always people willing to use it as a sheath.