How can we cry when we cherish the dust and fall into ink?
Ink-dyed elegance without hope
The deep love between two lives is hard to sacrifice
What can we rely on to remember each other?
Only use ink to wipe out the city and mourn it
…
He, dressed in black clothes, was as cold and silent as the night
She, in a blue dress, looks like a fairy
She said she loved him and gave everything she had, but in the end she lost her heart.
He also said he loved her, but he took action against her and ended up with a lifetime of love.
…
In the next life, can he win your heart?
In the next life, will she obey the emperor?
False love is like a dream, can that scroll of dusty books and a cup of fragrant tea preserve her last memory?