In the winter of the 16th year of Shunzhi, seventeen people died in the cold palace.
I am one of those seventeen.
The system said that if I make the emperor cry for me, I can survive.
Three years. He drank the burnt porridge I cooked, wrote his name on the palm of my hand, and tied a concentric knot on my wrist.
He said that after getting married, they would not be separated.
He forgot.
That night when the progress was 99%, he held my hand and said: Huan'er, don't leave.
He didn't know that this was the only thing I said that was remembered.
He doesn't know either,
When I came, the cold palace was full of snow.
When I left, the crabapples were not in bloom.
He remembered me for half my life.
Just at the moment when I forgot, I suddenly remembered everything.
He doesn't know me.
He finally knows me.
Intent: A story about a forgotten resentment that made the emperor cry in three years and reminded him in a lifetime.