When the bullet penetrated the center of his eyebrow and caused severe pain, Sakamoto suddenly remembered the color of blood in the smoke. His hands were stained with dust, and he had been ups and downs in troubled times for decades, but his eyes were always chasing that figure as clean as a blue lotus - Feng Ping.
He watched her singing the song of spring on the stage, and then watched the bits of freshness faded into afterimages by time and separation; he watched the smoke dissipate, the flag of Japan's defeat fell, and then he watched the sun rise in New China, and the mountains and rivers gradually became filled with new vitality.
But all the prosperity in this world is not worth the regret in my heart. If he could do it all over again, he would like to go back to the moment when they first met in Lihua Palace. The moment she raised her eyes, he handed her the white jasmine hidden in his sleeve and never let go.
