"A peachwood hairpin carries a life's worth of obsession."
In the cold, deserted pavilion, a dim dream appears. Fireflies swirl over a pond filled with rotting grass.
A girl in white sleeps aboard a small boat. A candle burns down, its light fading away. Peach petals drift from the sky like a rain of flowers and settle on the ground. When she opens her eyes, her weary gaze is clouded with mist. Beneath the moonlit night in a bamboo grove, a young man in blue stands watching her.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hua Ling."
"Brother Yu Chen, it's been so long."
·
A lone assassin falls off a cliff and loses her memory, becoming a frail young girl. A pack of wolves suddenly appears, bandits seek her life, and enemies come looking for revenge. The clash of blades feels both close and distant, while cold blood leaves the blade's edge frosted.
"Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
The young man is gentle as an immortal, utterly out of place in this bloodthirsty world. Before dawn breaks, he finds her amid a vast sea of people and whispers softly in her ear.
In her innocence, she is filled with joy. But when she remembers everything, she has no choice but to leave him. "Brother, this is the last time I'll call you that. Please take care of yourself."
·
Amid the nine-tiered palace halls, beneath flowers and moonlight, she meets him once again.
"Greetings, Your Highness, Seventh Prince." Leng Yanyan holds a crimson gauze lantern and bows slightly, stars and frost hidden in her eyes.
Su Junqing turns back from picking a flower, aloof and transcendent. "Do you not intend to acknowledge me?" Though he is smiling, his voice is steeped in bone-deep coldness.
--At their first meeting, he was a young wanderer of the martial world. When they meet again, he is the Seventh Prince of Nanzhao.
