She will always remember that day when he smiled so brightly that he said, "Okay, what a life, what a fortune. I treat you very well and love you deeply, but in the end, I am no match for a fortune!"
"Okay, very good, Luo Mingzhi, you made up this reason very well. If you deceive me and fool me like this, you can just fend for yourself here!" That day, he was heartbroken and left her.
She knelt there, only thinking of that winter, after the fortune teller who gave her orders left, she stood in the snowy wind and watched her mother's thin white hands push open the door of Wutong Garden. The old mottled door creaked, locking up her mother's youth and her carefree childhood.
And later.
He said: "You said you were born with a bad fate, but I forgot to mention that I don't believe in fate!" She raised her head, but her hand asked him to hold it tightly. He smiled: "Just like you said, I have never met a bad fate in my life, and I don't know what a bad fate is. If you are really born with a bad fate, I will stay by your side and follow you all my life to see what this bad fate is."
He was an emperor, and she was the daughter of a down-and-out guilty minister. Love, hate, right and wrong were all written into poems that year. Could the past between her and him, as light as tea and as strong as wine, be considered love?