Time traveled. There are mountains, water and beauties.
Volume 1 I don't know how long the years are in the mountains
Poem: When the fragrant grass returns, the clouds set, and the people's homes are deep in the white clouds. There is light rain in the stream beside the bridge. How many lifetimes will we be able to cultivate plum blossoms?
My life has been miserable recently, and I am motivated again. Rewrite, rewrite.
PS: Don't ask who the heroine is, just write whatever you want!