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The past sixteen years have been so uneventful. Ye Yuxin, who has always implemented materialism to the end, has never believed in ghosts and monsters. But what about the scholar in front of him? Let's just say he was human, and his ancient clothes were incompatible with her. It's a ghost, right? What's going on with this delicate appearance and innate ancient temperament?

There is a slight fragrance of flowers and wine floating in the city of Chang'an, and the green curtains are swaying in the wind. He stood in the moonlight, wearing a white shirt hanging to the ground, wiping his forehead swaying in the wind. The sound of the flute poured out from his fingertips, as if the spring breeze of March and the butterflies in the garden were hidden, heading straight towards her heart...