Qingmiao Palace, Tingquan Small House.
The warmth of spring brings blooming flowers, all competing for beauty.
"In this life, I only adorn my sleeves for you, with three rounds of drinks under the moon on the treetop..."
Zhu Nanzhi hummed a tune as she walked through the flower garden, the hem of her blue and white Hezi skirt swaying gently with her steps, untouched by dust.
With a lighthearted smile on her face, she bent or crouched down, tending to the flowers and grasses while muttering softly, "Next time, I'll put these bunches of flowers in my husband's room..."
Unlike Zhu Nanzhi's leisurely demeanor, not far away, Zhou Lan and others looked anxiously at their Holy Daughter.
Saint Lu's descent into the indulgence at Yun Meng Cliff's wine pools and meat forests is now well-known, with various voices emerging. Although concern is more prevalent, there is also a fair share of sneering.
