On Xuewang Mountain, I don't know which family it is, and the sound of the piano melts the snowflakes.
With green clothes and dark hair, he carefully brushed off the white snow on the nanmu box, looking into the distance, looking at the heaven and earth, and looking at the countless melancholy. The wind blew by, taking away not only the clay sculptures that had been crushed into dust, but also the thoughts that he had not thought about for a long time...
When everything became blurry, Xuewang Mountain was still so silent and profound, as if nothing had happened. All that remains is a sentence on the nanmu box:
"If I don't get what I want, I won't give it up. If it's not what I want, I can't see it."