Ziyu freely played with the white tiger, while Qing Jun wielded her sword to decapitate the azure dragon.
Brows hid shyness and frequently gathered, while her lips, like soft butter, were warm and melting.
In the daylight, at East Fence Small House.
On the bed in the north room, there hung white curtains, which at first glance seemed to be embroidered with a pattern of phoenixes and luan birds in disarray. But on closer inspection, it turned out that the thin gauze of the curtain merely reflected the scene behind it. This depiction of tangled phoenixes and luan birds truly represented lovers' entwining madness—the ancients indeed didn't lie.
Following that was the pilgrimage of a hundred birds, the phoenixes and luan birds sang in chorus, soaring high, and in a moment, feathers fluttered colorfully.
Inside the dining hall of the Old Zhao Family.
Guiding his wife in the Swordsmanship Mnemonic, Zhao Rong spared no effort and held nothing back.
