He was a revolutionary lurking behind enemy lines, and she was the "traitor's daughter" who dealt with political dignitaries; he held half of a jade pendant tightly when he died in the Battle of Suiyuan, and she sold her jewelry under the artillery fire of Nanjing's fall in exchange for a ticket to find him. When the letter from the other side of the Taiwan Strait finally arrived in 1987, the words "Look at Man Qing for me" on the yellowed page had already been stained with blood and tears by fifty-eight years - it turned out that on the eve of the Xi'an Incident, he had asked Zhang Xueliang to deliver an unsent confession, and the begonias she planted in her small courtyard in Peiping kept blooming every year, but she could no longer wait for the one who said, "I'll wait for you under the begonia tree in the next life." People.
He ordered her family's arsenal to be blown up for the sake of her family and country. She suffered three miscarriages in prison to protect his intelligence. When they reunited in peacetime, he was already the "chief's wife" beside the founding father, and she was just an amnesiac old woman in a small town who looked at the crabapple tree and muttered to herself.
In the torrent of history and family grievances, the love that began in the mist and ended in old age has finally become an unforgettable feeling that spans centuries - just like the unmelted snow outside the cave dwellings of the Great Wall, the not-full moon on the Qinhuai River in Nanjing, and the Xifu crabapple that blooms every year but cannot wait for the old friend in the small courtyard of Peking.
