She is a wind-like woman. In her eyes, worldliness, fame and wealth, and even morality seem to be non-existent. She can come and go wherever she wants in this world. She can sit on a horse and drink strong wine and sing loudly, or she can boil a clear spring and drink tea with poems, although she prefers the former. A road in the rivers and lakes, lonely but carefree, happy with grudges, riding horses to show off heroes, unrestrained.
She was as gentle as water to him and as cold as ice to them. But no one could see the fire in her heart. Perhaps that fire had been sealed in the deepest part of her memory along with the past years, and the clarity in her eyes had also been obliterated. In the eyes of the world, she is scheming and unsmiling.
But, what were they like before? What next?
Ten years have passed, and looking back, can the past be the same?
Unknown.