A corrupt lychee begins the dusk of the empire. The eyes of ants penetrate the epic collapse, and every falling petal of the chrysanthemum is a footnote to the death of the dynasty. A story of destruction and rebirth, power and ants, ideals and disillusionment. The colorful clothes of the prosperous Tang Dynasty rotted in the rotten smell of lychees, and the soaring pride was reduced to ashes in the flames of the golden armor burning the city. Only the slightly bitter chrysanthemum fragrance coming from the soil penetrated the blood and darkness, whispering the humblest and most tenacious truth of life.
