When they first met, he was a young man with ragged clothes but firm eyes, who was as courageous as a sharp knife in times of crisis. She was the county magistrate who was well-dressed and well-fed, but knew nothing about the world. When they met again, he was already in the whirlpool of power and had become the right-hand man of the powerful ministers in the court. Zhishui is struggling to move forward among the thorns of officialdom, where should he go?
Concept: The moss flowers are as small as rice, and we should also imitate the blooming of peonies.