Red crisp hands, yellow wine,
The city is covered with willows on the palace walls.
The east wind is evil and happiness is thin.
With a heavy heart, I have been away from home for a few years.
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
Spring is as old as ever, people are empty and thin,
The tear stains are red and raw.
Peach blossoms fall, leisure pool pavilion.
Although the mountain alliance is there, it is difficult to trust the brocade book.
Mo! Mo! Mo!
This is a story with a big background. I used such an incomprehensible entanglement just to describe an eternal proposition about silent waiting and destiny.
He and she were married at the fingertips. They were childhood sweethearts when they were young, and they also had childhood sweethearts, and they were always in love with each other.
If it hadn't been for that accident, he would have accomplished his art and come down from the mountain, and then he would have been full of ambition, wearing bright clothes and angry horses, wielding swords in the arena, and become a world-famous young knight.
She would also wear a red wedding dress and put her life in his hands under the envious and jealous eyes of countless young girls in the world. Then she would have a husband and raise children, and the family would be full of children and grandchildren.
However, everything changed the year she reached the age of 18, and the wheel of fate came to an abrupt halt, then ruthlessly drove in a completely different direction...