The Four Seasons Are Impermanent, and Only a Moment Passes

The "she" in his memory was vaguely a graceful woman in a white dress. Her back was slender and tall. The lace-patterned skirt swayed left and right with the skirt. The sunlight penetrated her soft hair and hit Mo Xuzhen's face, making him unable to open his eyes. When I wake up from the dream, I can't remember who "she" is. Spring, summer, autumn and winter, for a moment, I don't know who is my "real princess".