In one life and a hundred years, she has had one dream, ups and downs in the dream; when she wakes up, she has forgotten all her past, and her face has changed; her feathers and silver needles are a little sad, and the history books have turned around, but in the end she does not blame the world of mortals. How many strands of green hair did he cut off with a cold sword? She, a piece of red rope, has tied up the love of several lifetimes? Infatuated and lingering, floating in life and dreaming far away, waiting?