Who sacrificed his life for you to be young and beautiful, as bright as a peach blossom? Whose flute plays a thousand times, causing lovesickness to fall into dreams and making it difficult to sleep when you wake up?
The rivers and lakes are turbulent, and we are not afraid of swords and blind eyes, but we are afraid of unreasonable love and hatred. If everything could go back to the starting point, who would choose to leave?
And who keeps the cold edge of the blade as a companion to this burning heart? I hide my worries from you in exchange for staying calmly by your side, never far away.
The sword cuts the peach blossoms, and the calmness is no longer there, but the peach blossoms in the courtyard are left smiling to themselves in the spring breeze...