A chair, a piece of emerald.
I always remember the young man who came to welcome the snow. His cloud shirt was already soaked in blood. He held a piece of jade in his hand, with dragons and phoenixes flying around, and it was soaked with blood and glowed red. He opened his thin lips and said to me, "Yier, you look very beautiful today."
I remember the first time we met, the man sitting cross-legged opposite my brother was wearing a white shirt and had an indifferent but elegant temperament. When he saw her stunned that day, he raised his glass slowly and said to me, who was sitting under my brother: "Miss Wang, Fusu proposes a toast to you." The wine I drank in one gulp was the wine my father had buried under the peach blossom tree for more than ten years. The wine bred by the peach blossom tree will really be full of peach blossoms.
I remember that modern textbooks rated you as the person with the most political foresight, but you, Fu Su, suffered all the honor and disgrace in your life.
In 210 BC, Hu Hai ascended the throne and forced Fusu to commit suicide.
I've always known this ending.