She was always the first thing he saw when he looked back thousands of times. He was the breeze and the moon, he was decisive and cunning, he was cruel and ruthless, but even though there were countless affections that wanted to be lingered by the moonlight and melted into the corners of her elegant lips, it was difficult to get into her eyes that were so tender and watery when she saw another person. That gaze is like a bridge, able to reach that person's thousands of troops, and that gaze is like a mountain, able to stop his myriad colors.
He always said that he was miserable and she was even worse. As talented as she is, as agile as she is, and as self-respecting as she is, she is always the purest lotus or begonia in the spring flowers. She can always captivate the world, and can also keep the world cold. But there are always more jealous people than loved ones. I still remember the heavy snowfall that day, and the red plum blossoms, proud of the snow and frost, fell one after another after she appeared at the execution ground. With the sorrow hidden under the pride, they flew in the heavy snow, and then slowly fell like the wind, and no one cared about her anymore.
Ten years have passed, and everyone was drifting away from the promised future.
The Empress Dowager of Shaohua, the Emperor of Zhongxing, the Imperial Master of the Qing Dynasty, a famous general in the world, and the richest man in white.
Ten years later, who is that lonely white shadow under the Yuxi tree?
"Ayu, Aru, Azhuo, Xi Niang, I am alone again."