Though the Wutong Tree Stands

Zheng Zhiyin has never believed in love.

But when she meets those dark eyes, calm as drifting clouds and mist, her hesitation and panic can no longer be hidden, surging like spring waters stretching a thousand miles. She has not forgotten her mother's dying words: “The world is cold, and people are cruel.” Yet her name is Zhiyin, one who knows the heart of another. Such a kindred soul is hard to find. That was the hope her mother once held.

At thirteen, graceful and slender, she was given the name Bai Die and entered the world of mortals, all because her appearance resembled that of Consort Hada of Rong and Shuhe. Unwittingly, she was swept into the struggle for the crown prince's position. At the Canghua Pavilion, rouge would remain on her fingertips forever. Why grieve over the passing years? Then everything was overturned by the arrival of Shen Yingyi, the Second Prince of Shen. He was the one moving the pieces, and he treated Zheng Zhiyin as a sword. Yet his pity softened what might have been sharpness, and they became entangled in a tender, heartrending affair, losing themselves in it. But the more openly he showed his feelings, the more Zheng Zhiyin suffered. She could not tell how much of it was genuine.

Or perhaps every gaze that fell upon her face was an act of love for someone gone. Their parting had already been decided.

A red robe, a flash of white. To the ends of the earth, they would meet without fail. The phoenix alighted here, transformed as if reborn, yet unable to withstand the sorrow.

Though the parasol tree still stands,

its heart is dead.

Theme: The mortal bonds are severed,

but love still runs through the blood, undispersed and undying.