In the cold and misty Jiangnan, a suave young man has a green plum and a bamboo horse in his left hand, and a promise that I will accompany you all his life in his right hand. There is something strange about the body in the crystal coffin. The Miao family encounters dangers while searching for their mother. The Leng Ling sword is unsheathed, and the ink butterfly burns...
You are the cinnabar mole on the palm of my hand, just like the floating trees in September, you are the poetry and Zen that I can never let go of but have to let go of...
I just look forward to seeing each other affectionately in the coming years...