Breeze Gently, Jasmine Rain

Breeze gently, jasmine rain In the seventeenth year of Jinghe's reign, the breeze in Nanxiang City was mixed with the fragrance of jasmine, and also contained the prophecy of fate. Zhou Yang, the daughter of the Minister of Industry, had the ambition to "build houses to defend against enemies and protect poor people", and worked as a builder. However, in front of the Sanskrit brick sculptures restored in the ancient temple, she broke fate and formed a redemptive bond with the young general Zhao Wei. He said: "I will guard Jiang Huaiyue's identity for you!" "I will guard your wish!", The words are sonorous, like bricks carved into stone; She believes that "women can also be independent", and her eyes shine with a light that breaks through the times. But history is never up to people. The undercurrent of regime change spread through Nanxiang City. The temple was shattered by the fierce and iron horse, and the unfinished agreement between the two was also shattered. The joy under the moonlight in Taoxi Valley is still there, the heartbeat of "I want to protect you" is still hot, and the sharp blade of intrigue has cut through the stability - the severe pain of family destruction and the desolation of broken mountains and rivers, dragging Zhou Yang from the blueprint of creation into the quagmire of troubled times. Zhao Chun did not die on the battlefield, but died under the sharp arrows of intrigue and calculation. His blood dyed the land he had sworn to protect to the death; Zhouyang stood staggeringly at the ruins of the ancient temple, carving a mural of "Root System Symbiosis" on the ruins. Each stroke was a separation between life and death that he could not overcome. They once thought that buildings could withstand wind and rain and freeze time; But I finally understood that the changes of emperors and generals, and the hustle and bustle of the rise and fall of dynasties, are not worth the flick of time. Just like the cool tea beside the old man's well and the unfinished green tiles by craftsmen, those fiery vows and unfulfilled wishes eventually became a breeze during the Jinghe years. The breeze blew through the Sanskrit brick carvings and the cracks in the murals, leaving only a sigh: the tens of thousands of mansions she wanted, after all, there was one less person to watch side by side; the lifelong protection he promised, after all, failed to survive the uncertain times. Only the carvings on the bricks that say "will be found in the next life" are distantly opposite to the old wish of "reunion in the world and peace in the world", whispering in the wind. I can no longer wait for the breeze of that year to return, nor can I wait for the return of those old friends. In the end: the blue bricks are engraved with the heart, and the breeze never returns Intention: May the world be peaceful and the world be reunited.