He Shu dreamed that that year, she stood in the shade of a tree, waving and smiling at him, with a basket of locust flowers beside her. That year, he was still often punished by his master to kneel down, and he often messed up orders from Qingyi Fang.
Yan San brought dried Sophora japonica flowers. After drinking Sophora japonica tea, the master would always smile and be open to He Shuwang.
He Shu dreamed of that year again, when she was covered in dirt, stumbled open the door of Qingyi Square, and cried loudly in his arms. That year, Yan Kang was not dead yet.
Another year, Yan San's red dress was flying, her makeup was dancing on the Changge stage, and her gauze was graceful. It took off her hand and gently wrapped around King Heng's hand. That year, He Shu just inherited Qingyi Fang.
In the tenth year, with the help of King Heng, Yan San's restaurant business grew bigger and bigger, and finally became the number one Zhaomeng Restaurant in Chang'an.
In the autumn of 1949, the twelfth year after coming to Chang'an, there was no longer a boss Yan in Chang'an.
In the winter of the same year, King Heng, who had been demoted to a commoner, died in the first snow. He Shu, the owner of Qingyi Square, held a knife and sat quietly in the snow. King Heng's steaming blood gurgled into the snow. It was so hot that it was very much like the heart beating for a woman in his chest for the first time eleven years ago.
People say that I am in love with Chang'an, but in fact I only love someone in Chang'an.
In the spring of the twelfth year after Yan San came to Chang'an, there was no more Heshu in Chang'an.
Intention: Twelve years have passed. If there is an afterlife, will you say not to leave?