On the night of the fall of the country, Zhaojin left his old glory with a wordless song and fled into the mountains and rivers. She did not use a sword as a weapon, nor did she swear by blood, but with poems, papers, paintings, and tea and cigarettes as companions, she quietly embarked on the road to the restoration of her country. Zhaojin knows very well that hatred can easily turn into shackles, and revenge requires more scheming and patience. She makes friends with celebrities with her gentle and elegant demeanor, secretly influences the direction of the world, and weaves an invisible web between the court and the market. Her enemies were not prepared for this clarity, just as the spring rain fell quietly into the night, her power quietly grew in the silent place. Zhaojin's revenge is not a cold blade, but a silent change that moistens things. She wants to restore her motherland, not only in its territory, but also in its hearts. The wind blew through the deep forest, and the flowers bloomed in the city. In the faint light and shadow, she watched her way back.
