Yanqiu

A round of obsession and love has trapped the fate of many people. Struggle is in vain, it will only sink deeper and deeper. The hibiscus, which beats the snow, stands tall in the wind, its petals fall, and no one sighs. Past and present lives, fathers and sons, grievances and hatreds are intertwined, and no clue can be found. Who owes whom? Only fate can tell. What should she do when her pure heart is soaked in blood? Perhaps, I can only break a branch of hibiscus in full bloom on a moonlit night in late autumn, look up and ask the sky with a smile: What is it that is hidden in the silence of autumn?