One is a young prince who is inferior to one person and superior to ten thousand people;
One is a waiter who is above one person and below ten thousand people.
A chance meeting ten years ago made him get to know him when he first arrived in Chang'an, and his nose was red from the cold wind, but he had to leave. Little did he know that this little figure had left a deep mark on his mind, and it would not go away for ten years;
Ten years later, when sweet-scented osmanthus bloomed all over the town, he finally came back. Little did he know that his appearance would involve him in a feud. Either happy or sad. Either he has died or his life or death is uncertain.
He is a poison. He thought.
Will he let this poison get deeper and deeper? . . . . . .