When people grow old, they often recall things from long ago.
Recently, Shen Zhen kept dreaming about the scene when she was thirteen years old: the thick crimson gate of the imperial city, the dilapidated carriage that faded from sight, Xiao Mei's red nails that look new every day, the condescending glance of Queen Minhui on the phoenix dance chariot beside Fenghuan Palace, the Sophora japonica tea cooked by Emperor Xiaozhen...
Those flower-like women who existed vividly in Shen Zhen's memory had seen them rise and fall.
In the final analysis, everyone is just a person struggling to pursue true love in this deep palace.
