Yan Boxi sat alone in front of the window, flipping through a scroll of "Spring and Autumn Annals" in his hand. The candlelight cast his silhouette on the carved window lattice.

Outside the window, a peach tree was in full bloom, and the petals fluttered down in the wind. A few petals stuck to the corners of his brocade robe, looking like deliberately embroidered patterns.

"Mr. Yan, the prince has summoned you." The steward bowed outside the door, his eyes glancing at the priceless Duan inkstone on the desk, which was a reward from Prince Linjiang last month.

Yan Boxi closed the book and gently stroked the gold-stamped cover with his fingertips.

When she stood up, the hem of her brocade robe flowed down like water, and the jade pendant around her waist remained motionless.

Anyone who saw him would wonder what kind of elegant young man came from a noble family. No one would have thought that he was on the list of death row prisoners in the imperial prison and was sentenced to death for suspected cheating in the imperial examination.

"Thank you for leading the way." He said in a gentle voice. When passing by the bronze mirror, the person in the mirror had a smile on his face, and there was no trace of the disheveled look he had in the prison back then.

Passing through the nine-turn corridor, a stage in the distance was playing "The Palace of Eternal Life".

Yan Boxi stopped at the corridor and looked coldly at the emperor and his concubine who were in love on the stage.

The Emperor held Concubine Yang's hand and sang sad and moving lyrics, acting out the vows of love made in the Hall of Eternal Life.

There was a hint of sarcasm at the corner of his lips, and his eyes were cold and sinister.

If this is truly the love of your life, how could you endure humiliation and live alone, watching your beloved die?

At the Mawei Slope that year, the three-foot white silk not only destroyed her stunning beauty, but also shattered her eternal love.

The night wind blew by, blowing off a few peach petals on Yan Boxi's clothes.

The bright red petals fell to the ground, just like the sleeves of Yang Fei on the stage.

Yan Boxi withdrew his gaze and straightened his brocade sleeves.

Love in this world, after all, is nothing more than a trick performed in a play for others to see.

True love never tolerates any compromise - either live and die together, or perish together.