A sword carved from chrysanthemums is famous all over the world, and a pot of honey brewed from osmanthus is fragrant in Fengcheng. No one within hundreds of miles knew it.
After going around for decades, the most famous thing is not these two things but the people who own them.
One has a face as delicate as a water lotus, and the other has a walk as graceful as the breeze. They are the most compatible people, but also the most puzzling.
You ask why this is so, and the answer is: What God has done cannot be changed by man.
When the blood rain washes away the peaceful Jincheng, when the sword cuts through the old promises, when the lingering words of love have built an impossible iron wall, when your smile never appears in front of me again. . . . . . Do you think I would be willing to sleep like this?
At that time, who will still recite the beautiful song "Tears of Love", and who will still sing the nihilistic "Song of Immortality".
How could I not know that even the gorgeous and charming peach blossoms on a tree beside the spring can make me cry.