She kept searching for a way out, yet always looked back at the road she had taken. As she gazed at the desolate world around her, an immense, mysterious sorrow spread across the barren landscape. Those were the years of her prime, like sand slipping through her fingers.
Every so often, he tasted the anguish of memory, a yearning that wound its way to the farthest reaches of the universe and beyond.
If flowers could grieve and hearts could tire, the songs and dances of the mortal world would sigh. She gazed until the autumn waters ran dry, watched the lights grow dim, yet could never fathom the human heart. The crescent moon curved above, hoofbeats fell softly, and an empty song of resentment for the pipa rang out!
Bearing immense hatred, they deliberately kept the truth from her. Now that she knows what happened, where can she go? He set one trap within another, but she only wanted to remain an outsider. Yet as she was swept into the turmoil, she became deeply entangled in his schemes. Does he regret it, too? And how will the hostage prince from the enemy kingdom maneuver through the treacherous currents and win victory from a thousand miles away?
You are really very artistic and insist on following your own path. Come on. . . . .