C631 It Was a Different Spring Festival!

Who was the one who put the lead cloud over the crescent moon?

Who was it that sighed softly and moved the veil with the cold wind?

Who was it that messed up his heart's writing years?

Who stared at the abyss and met him?

He was clean and untainted by the world of mortals as a hairpin.

The root of love was all kinds of heartlessness, and even after falling to the underworld