This is still a chaotic world, with endless love and hatred. The timeless and picturesque Jiangnan overlaps year after year, but the green-haired beauty in the painting is missing. The gentle and jade-like knight is still in front of the tomb, with such a graceful white shadow. He sat there blankly, his hand stroking the words "The Tomb of My Beloved Wife Zhu Qiqi" that he had carved with tears a year ago again and again. Over and over again, he seemed to be driving away the coldness of the tombstone.
The drizzle of early spring splashed on him, and the cabin at the bottom of the valley was half hazy in the spring breeze.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
