Fifteen years ago, on the day Song Miqing met him, she vaguely remembered the beautiful sunset, the cool breeze, and the people walking lazily, as if the beginning of a good story was brewing.
On a spring day, I brushed off the fallen flowers on her skirt under the apricot tree, telling her the secret feelings in my heart.
However, the blizzard came after all. How could the severe cold of winter compare to the ice abyss in Song Miqing's heart. She knelt down and begged her father to be exempted from the beheading order. What she got in exchange was not his softening of heart and relenting, but a one-month grounding.
Under every moonlit night after that, the pillows on the couch in Ning'an Palace were stained with the girl's sadness, which was a kind of unforgettable pain.
Now in the 21st year of Xuanhe's reign, the handkerchief that was not given out at that time is still with me.
So do people.
"Are you facing me now as Jiang Jinshu or Xiao Ning?"
"Mi'er... Your moonlight also shines on me... Okay..."
"Please don't go... I beg you..."
He gently stroked Mi'er's thin red eyes, "Don't cry... I want to pave the way for you..."
Intention: How can the love between children be compared to that of family, country and the world?