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Summary
For eight years, I tied Red Threads for others at Yuelao Temple, yet I had no marriage fate of my own.
On the night of Qixi, a Black Thread suddenly appeared around my wrist, its other end bound to the Young General who had died in battle three years ago.
My master said that if I cut it, I could live.
He said, “Do not cut it. I still owe you a springtime.”
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