One is a king in the prosperous age, who smiles for him and wishes to conquer the world; the other is a romantic gentleman, holding tea in his hand and crushing the flowers.
Nothing is forever, nothing is a what-if. If they had never met, he would still be his emperor, dominating the world; he would still be his husband, with a garden full of peaches and plums. It's better not to meet, than not to see.
When the flowers are gone and the music ends and everyone disperses, who is there in the depths of the peach blossoms, playing the music to make the autumn messy for a lifetime.