"Life is indeed as lonely as the snow..."
At 21 and a half years old, Zuo Chang'an stood on the ruinous city wall, waiting for the officers below to clear the debris, his gaze intense.
Reflecting on the things that happened since he left Chang'an at the age of eighteen, dressed in a dark purple robe, with a blood coffin strapped to his back, a trace of doubt inadvertently appeared on his beautiful, otherworldly face.
The death of the Lord he had thought about incessantly, and the Junior Minister of the Ministry of Justice, Wen Ren Xiongzao, wept for hours before rushing to meet with other colleagues, soon bringing him the intelligence known.
