On the other side, the waterside pavilion and cloister are dimly lit.
Wearing a snow coat, her hair is as long as clouds, and her sleeves are full of water. As her hairpin and jade hairpin swayed slightly, she turned back gracefully, her bright eyes flickering. He raised the corners of his lips carelessly, bringing out some vague sadness.
A peony pavilion, a water mill tune that turns over and over again. Get on the board, loose the board, move, turn around. The flowing clouds and flowing water sing and sigh three times.
Holding up her orchid finger, she sang carefully: Like flowers, beautiful family, like the passage of time.
"The Han River is clear and shallow, how much longer can it be? There is so much water in it that I cannot speak of its pulses."
Perhaps in this life, she is destined to be on this shore, and he is on the other shore, facing each other across the water, never to meet again...
(I love Kun Opera and have wanted to write a story about it for a long time. In fact, this short story is not all Kun Opera, but also some personal metaphors for love)