Ancient style, slightly cruel~(@^_^@)~
In April of the twelfth year of Jingzhao, all the flowers on the Changdao were gone, and peach blossoms bloomed in the Buddhist niches in the ancient temples. Qiao Bai, the fourth son of Emperor Jing Guo, who had always been in poor health, quietly came to this Buddhist and Taoist holy place to rest peacefully, regardless of the affairs of the court, and to avoid the trivial matters of the world. But I never thought that the peach blossoms would pull out their branches, and there would be no time to dodge them, and what would happen would be a painting that could not even be spread on red plain paper, with thousands of brilliant colors, vivid and vigorous. Under that waterfall of peach blossoms, if I had known that I would be obsessed with love, hate, and grief, I would have given up on the wild goose thousands of miles away and would not drink in the southern country. I would rather kneel on the green lantern forever, always accompany the ancient Buddha, hold half an ink pen and copy all the scriptures to atone for the original sins of my life. I just hope that I won't see you in this life and I won't meet you in the next life.