In the final years of Western Qin, natural disasters and human calamities struck as undercurrents surged. Heroes rose up everywhere, and countless men laid claim to provinces and commanderies.
For a time, armies clashed in a struggle for whose empire?
What are high office and rank worth? All things turn like candle flames.
She was born to an official's family, but overnight became a helpless fish on the chopping block, at the mercy of others. Only after falling from her lofty perch did she realize how utterly useless she was. The road ahead stretched dark as night. How could she struggle to survive?
When the songs and revelry had faded, when the three thousand blossoms had withered, the sky was still the same, and so was that person.
Fireworks bloomed by the winding stream beneath a full moon. Long fingers held a silver mask. In white robes, he smiled faintly, his voice clear as a spring: "Ask the flowing waters of the east: which is longer, their journey or the sorrow of parting?" His words were as soft as a whisper. "You once promised me a lifetime. Have you forgotten?"
A flower, a world; a leaf, a quest; a song, a sigh; a lifetime for one person.
In a time of chaos, love's sorrow waits only for these words: May we grow old together.
