The Warm Prince and the Cold Concubine

Spring rains fall one after another, lovesickness breaks the soul, and the world of mortals is filled with thousands of lights. Hearing about it, looking for people, sighing about the beautiful city. The sound of the piano is getting colder, and the mountains and rivers are covered with weeping ink marks for hundreds of miles. Late at night, solitary lamp, mandarin duck pillow. People are aware of the light dust in a hundred miles, and are shocked by heaven and earth. They don't hear what is happening outside the window. Who has ever seen her crying with bare hands? She is sad that summer is gone and the autumn wind is deep and cold. Who would have known that she would conquer the country, smile with thousands of hairs, and be alone. Who would remember her pointing at the mountains and rivers from afar, lamenting that the hero has stepped into the underworld, and feeling heartbroken. Whoever heard that her city was deep and deep, she led her troops into the battle to destroy her soul and her life. There is no powder on the face, it is lightly stained by the mandarin duck pillow, and the subtle fragrance floats as the night deepens. When I meet an old friend, I draw my sword and go around the broken bottle, listening to the sound of the herdsman's flute all over the city. Tong Geng, the moon is shallow and the lamp is deep, Anzhi is the emperor. In early spring, Li Ren, Yi Ren, etc. Touch the red lips lightly, the rouge is light and cold, and the white head is alone. Old friends return to their dusty graves in autumn. A man like the moon has been blamed for her, and he has spent all the wealth of the country just for her to smile. The poetic man has protected her from generation to generation, surrendering his country to her, only for her. A man like Mo would accompany her life and death, giving up his life's glory just to stay with her for the rest of his life. And she gave up the chance to grow old with him for a picturesque man, not knowing whether they would see each other again in her lifetime. Baili Qingchen stood in front of an isolated grave, looking at the tombstone in front of her. For a whole day and night, she could not hear or see the pleadings of the guards around her. It was as if she and this nameless tomb were the only ones in the world. There was not a drop of tears or a word of condolences. Until before leaving, she drew her sword and cut her index finger. After writing "I love the tomb of Jimo Feng" on the tombstone, she also buried her lifelong promise to Jimo Feng. "If you are not here, I will be alone. If you come back, I will let go of the country and live with you." She didn't believe that the man who was as gentle as ink and brought her warmth was buried silently in this desolate place. She didn't have the courage to verify it with her own eyes, so she could only wait, or it might support her and survive. The man watched the red dress leave from a distance on the top of the mountain without saying a word. How can the country and the country be defeated? He and she have a past.