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Gao Ning'er was reborn. In her previous life, she died in a particularly aggrieved death because she was married to an idiot prince. I wanted to stay away from the idiot prince in this life and live a good life. But he doesn't want to be manipulated by fate, and for the sake of his family, he still has to deal with this idiot prince. But he didn't expect that this idiot was kind-hearted and not bad in nature, just incompetent. Gao Ning'er decided to train this idiot prince well. Since he couldn't escape, it was better to face the difficulties. It's just that the prince has been raised and raised, and his skills have improved a lot, but his temperament has not changed. Facing many memorials, someone feels pitiful. "Queen, I feel really uncomfortable, why don't we give birth to a prince and let him manage the country?

When college student Su Qing was working part-time in a convenience store, she accidentally picked up the drunk superstar Lu Xingyu. To prevent paparazzi, she was forced to take him in for one night, but she was photographed because of this, and the whole Internet broke the news that "Lu Xingyu is married in secret". The agency made a mistake and asked the two to pretend to be a couple for three months. From then on, the aloof idol began to learn to fall in love awkwardly, while Su Qing had to face illegitimate meals, black fans and a true love that started with lies.

Autumn in Chang'an comes extremely early and heavy this year. The fog is not white, but gray, with a fishy smell mixed with rust and wet soil. It presses heavily on the rows of roof tiles and seeps into the crisscrossing streets. The sun turned into a blurry, pale halo, with no light coming through, and the whole city was immersed in a thick, flowing gloom. Even on Zhuque Street, which is usually the noisiest, the sounds of people and cars and horses are muffled, like a layer of water-soaked quilt. Yizhuang is in the most secluded corner of Guangdefang, with dead grass on the wall shivering in the fog. When Shen Yan pushed open the creaking heavy wooden door, a colder and heavier breath hit his face, mixed with inferior incense and some indescribable smell of slow decay of things. He was usually expressionless, like a moving blue brick in this yizhuang, but today, there was a slight trace of stasis in his eyes that had been calm all year round. The mortuary bed was covered with white linen. The silhouette under the cloth is a person.

It started raining in the middle of the night. At first there were just sporadic ticking sounds on the eaves, like the tired footsteps of a watchman. At midnight, the rain suddenly turned violent, and thousands of silver threads dropped from the dark sky, weaving the entire city of Peiping into a damp, rustling net. Shen Yanqiu pushed open the wooden lattice window of the west wing, and a wind carrying the smell of dead leaves and earth came in, causing the flame of the kerosene lamp on the table to suddenly dim. He turned and looked inside the house - his grandfather's relics had been piled up in this old house for three days. The camphor wood box was open, revealing yellowed thread-bound books, scrolls, and utensils carefully wrapped in oil paper. The unique, slightly sweet and decaying smell of old paper floats in the air, intertwined with the sound of rain outside the window, making this century-old house seem even more empty and quiet. Shen Yanqiu rushed back to Peiping from Jinling three days ago. The telegram came suddenly, saying only that my grandfather was critically ill. When he arrived after traveling day and night, the old man had already passed away. He was left with an old house near Liulichang, and a house full of ancient books and artifacts that no one could understand. This old scholar, who had been obsessed with folklore and local legends all his life, was just a lonely old man with a weird temper in the eyes of his neighbors. "They are all useless things." An old neighbor who helped organize them once shook his head and said, "Mr. Shen has loved collecting these legends of gods and ghosts all his life. He has never done anything serious." But Shen Yanqiu didn't think so. As a lecturer in folklore at Yenching University, he knows better than anyone that those folk memories that are considered "absurd" by orthodox historiography often contain forgotten historical folds. At this moment, he squatted down and took out a stack of books wrapped in blue cloth from the bottom box.

The fluorescent lights in the office will automatically dim by half after ten o'clock in the evening. He Li rubbed the sore corners of his eyes, and the numbers in the Excel spreadsheet began to blur into gray rivers. She reached for the coffee cup, and her fingertips touched the cold ceramic - the coffee had been drunk long ago, leaving only a dark brown stain at the bottom of the cup. Outside the window, the city lights were like broken diamonds scattered on black velvet, distant and indifferent. Just when she was about to save the document, the screen suddenly rippled. Not a flicker, not a screen, but real, water-like ripples. The dark blue data table swayed in circles like stones thrown into the water. He Li was stunned, thinking it was an hallucination caused by excessive fatigue. She closed her eyes and counted three seconds silently. When he opened it again, a face appeared in the center of the ripples. That was my seventeen-year-old self.

At the moment when the energy of the earth veins exploded, Qin Yanqiu was standing in front of the reinforced glass window on the top floor of the observation tower. At first, it was just an unnatural indigo aurora in the night sky, slowly smearing like ink dripping into clear water. Immediately afterwards, a low humming sound came from the depths of the earth, as if a sleeping giant was turning over. The psychic sensor on the window sill began to flash wildly, the pointer jumped off the scale, and sounded a sharp alarm - this was not an ordinary leyline tide. The whole "Hanging Bell City" was shaking. Qin Yanqiu pressed the window edge, his knuckles turning white. He saw on the horizon in the distance, a beam of light tearing through the earth and shooting straight into the sky. It was not a flame, but some kind of older, purer energy, showing a crystal-like texture, reflecting the night sky like daylight. Around the light pillar, the air twisted into a strange vortex, and even the starlight was swallowed up and refracted, turning into debris scattered all over the sky like fireflies. "The moment the stars fall..." He whispered this word that he had only seen on rubbings of ancient prophecy tablets.