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If Miss Jian were to sum up her life in the past twenty-seven years, it would be sweet, very sweet, very sweet! (Okay, although there is a little bit of abuse in the middle, no one's life is smooth sailing. There will be a lot of sunshine waiting for her after it passes.) She has completely become the heroine in an idol drama. When she was in school, her boyfriend was the school idol who was popular in the school, and after they got married, she became the president's wife who was envied by everyone (although they were probably the same person). But there was one thing, Wei Mao's man had the same character as the male protagonist in the idol novel, but he was not the same type at all! (It's just a little joke!) Not only is he not an ascetic and cold man, but he is also a bit straight... For example... Miss Jian and Mr. Mu were chatting one day: He is very warm (Miss Jian): Are you a pig? She is very sweet (Mr. Mu): No. He is very warm: Then what are you? She is very sweet: He is very warm: Then what am I? She is very sweet:? ? ? My people? He is very warm: Idiot, you can't even guess this. I am a pig, and you are a pig in the palm of your hand. She is very sweet: ... He is very warm: Let me be your little one, okay? She is very sweet: OK He is very warm: Just one word? She is very sweet: OK! He is very warm: ... And but, although Mr. Mu is sometimes very straight, he is also very romantic. Therefore, Miss Jian summed it up in one sentence: you are very warm, I am very sweet, and they match just right.

Nine years old, winter and autumn, the snow is just right at dusk, thousands of miles of ice cover, and thousands of miles of snow drifting. She was carried into Pingyao country on a sedan chair with eight carriages. In the eyes of others, the scenery is endless, but her road is far away. From this moment on, there is no Yin Qinghan in the world, only Ling Qinghan, who was abandoned by his family in a foreign country. From childhood to adulthood, she regarded her love for him as a huge gamble. She never loves in a humble way, and she never asks for an armchair vow. All she wants is to hold one person's hand and grow old together without abandoning each other; all she wants is to win one person's heart and never leave each other. He once said to him: "If I become emperor one day, I will marry you as my queen." She just smiled at that time. She believed in him. The friendship between childhood sweethearts was worth all the splendor in the world. However, the persistence when I was young turned into the indifference when I grew up. In the end, she stood on the bloody battlefield and said with tears: "Your queen is not me after all. And I have become someone else's queen." The streets are long and the fireworks are numerous. You turn on the light to look back, but the short pavilion is short and the world is dusty. I sigh again. Who caused the string to break in the end, and the flowers fell on the shoulders, in a trance. How many beauties are haggard, how many lovesicknesses are broken, only blood stains the ink fragrance and cries litter the grave. I raise my glass and get drunk alone, and I feel lost for another year. Turning around, a wisp of cold fragrance was far away, and the smile was shallow. Who accepts whose calamity, and who becomes whose obsession. In the next life, you will save me, okay?