It was already late spring when Xia Yumo saw Li Muchun again. She was now gentle and calm, without the weakness before, and her face was obviously much rosier. Yu Mo thought with some self-righteousness: "I know that it is right for her to rest in this well-equipped mansion. Whether it is the carefully selected courtyard or the maids he passed by, they are undoubtedly the best. He can give her the best of everything." But people are like this: what you think is the best may be worthless in the eyes of others. It just so happened that Li Muchun was such a woman, with a pitiful childhood, and what she missed most in her life was still that: the small mountain village far away from the turmoil, her kind grandfather, and the graceful young man who held hands with her by the lotus pond through the late spring and ushered in the blooming lotus.