For all these years, she carefully wove herself a grand dream of spring and autumn.
Huddled inside it, she couldn't feel the bone-chilling wind and snow beyond her dream.
Only when she awoke did she realize that atop that splendid estate lay buried a past long sealed away.
The skies were clear, the Milky Way arched over Longshou, and together they watched a hundred miles of fireworks.
Their vow to grow old together had been nothing but an illusion.
One cup to mark a thousand autumns, to forget that most painful past and find joy forevermore.
The gentle, compassionate man asked her, "Why put yourself through this?"
She smiled as lightly as a drifting cloud, tipped back her cup, and drank without a trace of regret.
As she closed her eyes, she told herself, "This love: unmoved, unhurt."
...If love is destined to end in heartbreak and hatred, why keep stubbornly clinging to it?
One clear tear to mark a lifetime; when the flowers fade, sever the threads of love.
Black hair turns white, and after years of delusion, the sky outside the window finally brightens.
