If the night blooms lie awake, the moonlit breeze brushes my face.
I cannot see the shadows of flowers, yet their fragrance fills my heart.
If the night’s people lie awake, there is no need to pity those who drink alone.
The desert has few plumes of smoke, while Jiangnan is awash in color.
Who can sleep through the night? It is all because of the power of the night.
By lamplight, I gaze at drunken eyes, with salty tears in my heart.
In the eighteenth year of the night, the nation was entering a time of prosperity. Yet amid all this splendor, the dark currents that had long churned beneath the surface gradually began to emerge. Why had a woman from the distant desert become so deeply caught up in it? Who was she? She didn’t even know who she was. Whom did she love? She didn’t know whom she ought to love, either...
