Chang'an Street Is Cold, I Come from Yong'an

The world is like a grinding mill, which has crushed the bones of many people. In a ruined temple in Yong'an Lane in the capital, there lived an orphan with no name. He lived on the streets when he was six years old. When he was ten years old, he met someone he shouldn't have met - Shen Qingyao, the daughter of the household minister. One is a weed in the mud, the other is a pearl in the clouds. The two people who should not have any intersection have become each other's only confidants under an old locust tree. "I will protect you for the rest of my life." A ten-year-old child makes a promise and then spends his entire life fulfilling it. He worshiped a master of unknown origin and learned an unknown set of kung fu. He penetrated wall after wall in the abandoned school grounds, and curled up a copy of "The Art of War" in the cold winter night. He has no special talent, no chance encounters. All he has is that he can stand a quarter of an hour longer than others, stab a thousand times more bamboo poles than others, and endure one minute more pain than others. From Yong'an Lane to the East Palace, what is separated is not only half of the capital, but also a chasm that three generations cannot cross. What he has to do is to spend three years walking to the gate of the East Palace and taking out the girl trapped in the cage. The world of rivers and lakes is not a bead curtain, but a millstone. But there are always some grains with a hard outer shell. When the millstone runs over it, it does not break. Instead, it becomes embedded in the cracks of the stone and becomes a thorn on the millstone. This thorn is called Chen Jinhan.