The Young Master Goes to the Cold

I remember someone once told her that she was the luckiest woman in the world. Really? Ten years of boudoir dreams, five years of court intrigue. It's hard to keep the brocade clothes, and the bare hands are not as good as before. She didn't answer, she just thought of someone at that moment The old friend who cooked wine for her under the moon and held her in his arms in front of the abyss.