The grass is long and the orioles are flying in the March sky, and the willows are blowing on the embankment and are drunk with the spring smoke.
That year Sang Rong was sixteen, and Hua Jincheng was only twenty. That year, he won the top prize on the Sangrong Gold List in the palace examination. Time flies, and so many years have passed in the blink of an eye. The original light fur horse, infinite glory and scenery are like passing clouds, and they have long since disappeared. What can you hold in your hand? Money? Right? Or is it illusory love?