There is a cold sword flashing a bright arc, and there are seven strings caressing half the desolation.
There are blood baths, trampling on bones and piles of corpses, and there are also leisurely moments of sniffing plum blossoms and seeking fragrance.
A nobody among thousands of people, or maybe just a dirty little girl selling flowers on the roadside, who knows the complicated past behind it.
The rivers and lakes have stirred up so many heartstrings and broken them so many times. A series of chaos has cost all the blood, tears, sorrows and joys. The wisps of the past floating in the wind have become a lament song to commemorate this thousand-year history.
Don't ask me why the extras came out before the main text_(:3∠)_