She is like a brilliant begonia flower blooming inside the palace wall, and like a fleeting epiphyllum, she quickly withers in a world where she does not belong.
She just wants to "watch the water flowing eastward in the morning and the sun setting in the west" with her husband and travel around the world hand in hand; but he wants to have all the beauties in his arms. When I stood in the courtyard without her, looking at the begonia flowers flying all over the sky, the emptiness filled my heart, boundless. Although he was pointing at the country and holding the beauty in his hands, I felt that her flower-like smile on that warm spring afternoon was more fascinating than anything else in the world.
This is their happiest memory.
He desperately searched for that pink color lost in the world of mortals, like the affectionate color of a begonia flower...