The ancient zither resonates, the murderous aura rises.
The woman's face is stunning, yet the killing intent in her eyes sends chills down one's spine.
Countless people charge with weapons, but no one can get close to her.
Screams echo, blood splatters everywhere.
Clearly, the music is melodious, yet corpses are strewn all over.
The scene shifts to the Deep Palace Courtyard, beneath a brocade canopy, behind an antique zither, sits a woman in elegant palace attire.
With her head bowed, her fingers deftly pluck the strings, gently and leisurely strumming, the sound flows like water.
The woman raises her head, her smile bright, her beauty like a flower.
Lu Hualiang suddenly snaps back to reality, unable to shake off the image of the woman's smile in his mind.
He looks down at the woman in his arms, identical.
Truly identical.
Lately, he often thinks of some ancient images, all of which feature a woman.
A woman dressed in ancient attire who looks exactly like Xia Weibao.
