In the Chengcui Palace, An Zhi was looking at the window. Under the slanting light of the autumn sun, An Zhi's face is like a crown jade. Under the window facing the wind, it is still as it was before: calm and leisurely, with a long and jade-like body, like strong pines and green bamboos, which is a good sight to watch.
Han Xuan was fascinated for a moment, thinking about how innocent and smooth he was when he was sixteen years old, when the boy put his hands behind his hands and recited poems, spoke to each other in the middle of the moon, talked about the beauty of the world, and discussed the past and the present. Years have passed, and Hanxuan insists on doing this, and it will be difficult to recover if it is overturned early. In the young man's heart, there seemed to be deep hatred, and there was only silence between the two of them.
From beginning to end, no matter when or where, An Zhimo is an unattainable person. And Han Xuan knew that forcing him so hard would only destroy the two of them's mutual respect, and there would be no future for them. In this life, he could only dwell on the past and amuse himself.
Han Xuan secretly laughed in his heart, how can there be any remaining life?
Intention: