Regardless of rise or fall, history is always sad.
She was a musician in Shu during the Five Dynasties, and she witnessed a historical lament in her eyes.
Her fingers slowly touched the twenty-five strings, and the melody began to form, giving off a vast and vast scene of vast clouds and water. Sometimes all the strings sing in unison, as if the wind and snow are covering the mountains, and sometimes one string plays solo, like a plum blossom blooming in the frost, standing alone. After playing for a long time, the sound gradually slowed down, and the low hum was almost inaudible. When it seemed to have stopped, another sound of the piano came, first like a hanging spring and a waterfall, unrestrained and unrestrained, and then like falling rain and snow, with a chilling atmosphere. After falling back three times like this, the warm spring sun has become clearer, and it seems to have been lightly painted into a picture of plum blossoms.
Everyone at the table was intoxicated, and a faint fragrance of plum blossoms lingered in the courtyard. No one knew when the sound of the konghou stopped. When everyone woke up from a dream, Pei Niang had already quietly left.