Love during the Republic of China was poignant, plain, and changing. The so-called love is nothing more than a word of fate and a word of fate. Those who are destined have no share, those who have a share are not destined, and those who are destined and have a share are also bumpy and lifeless.
At that time, women generally took care of their husbands, raised children, and took care of the household, but I didn't want to do these things. I preferred poetry and songs. My name is Qing Nian, the third child. She and her elder brother Qing Jian were the most in tune with each other. The elder brother never expected that his most beloved sister would give up the vigorous love he longed for and become the most accommodating to accept the proposal of marriage. I never thought that when someone came to propose marriage, the moment I saw that person, I would be so reluctant to refuse. I never knew that he and I were so involved and so difficult.