Brocade clothes are flowing in the blood, sleeves are dancing in the spring breeze, there are unknown flowers in the courtyard, and people are talking on the street.
The rain falls and the duckweeds scatter, the wind chime is covered with frost on the pillow, and I dwell and bury myself with thoughts and resentments. Who can forget the old name?
Concept: Love in troubled times under the change of royal power