*There is an emperor and a daughter named after a flower, but how can she protect her beauty in autumn? I am tired of the glory of the Fang Kingdom, and the Qing Emperor ordered only autumn. Ye came when he heard that you asked for him. Chengshu was lucky enough to see you. ——"Ode to the Emperor's Daughter" Chen Ajiao Jinnian, Ruge. They are the same person, but they are not the same person either. On a journey to another world, the flowers are not red when you come, and the flowers are not withered when you leave. In the golden year, the life is as brilliant as an emperor's daughter; the song is like a song, but the existence is as indifferent as the red chrysanthemum. Confused and disputed, the right result is finally achieved, the heart is as calm as water, and worries gather between the brows. Although the phoenix has shed its branches, its quality has not changed. Clear the clouds and disperse the fog, and when the Qingming Festival comes, another village will see bright trees and bright flowers. *I was slightly drunk under the wisteria flowers and fell asleep leaning against the tree. I dreamed of returning to my old hometown, and the courtyard was deserted and green. It's hard to sleep, it's hard to sleep, my eyes are full of tears. ——"Sleep? Like a Dream" Zhang Xinyi was born when the wisteria flowers bloomed and passed away when the flowers fell. Even though she came from another world, the dust of this world cannot cover up her youthfulness. Carrying the glory of a lifetime, the soul returns to its hometown, leaving only a wisp of incense etched in the flowers. As gorgeous as she is, it's hard to wipe away from your heart. Every time you open the title page, the beautiful shadow comes from the flowers. *The morning opens and the evening falls, the youth blooms in an instant. In the mist and rain, Zhang Yang opened up quietly and failed. Three years of downfall. Three years of hardship, three years of happiness. Just because the trapped beast buried in the dark is running around, everything is like a mirror. Things are not things, feelings are not feelings. Although they are as beautiful as mirror flowers, they have no place for the soul. Even if you are unwilling to give in, even if you regret it, there is no way out. Using blood as a sacrifice, offering flowers like years, the knot in the heart will finally be untied and return to the dust. Baobao has posted it once before, but unfortunately he didn't understand Jinjiang's posting system, so this time it can be considered a re-post. It's finished, feel free to dive in.
Conception: