Don't Talk About the Past

The sandalwood sleeves are dancing, the lonely smoke is in the autumn curtain, whose dead branches are resting on the wild geese. The bamboo branches are withered in autumn, and the rain has stopped in the city. But don't take time to recall the past, and don't talk about nostalgia. Sixteen years ago, in the house of Lord Protector Huangfu, the cry of the baby was lost in the sound of the heavy rain breaking through the rocks. The man in the dark night carefully hid his whereabouts. What was his destination? What else did he take away? Why do those things never seem to happen and no one knows they exist? Is there really anything in the world that can't be told by everyone? Don't talk about past lives, that's only for those who have experienced it...