Many fragments came flowing like water. He walked under the sycamore tree, his beautiful eyebrows stretched like a child; he held her hand to write, and the sweat in her palm wet the pen; he often showed a sad smile. She thought of the last palace she saw. The walls of the Daming Palace are as high as the clouds, blocking out life, death, and delusions. The setting sun shone on the palace wall, revealing a strange blood-red color.