Now Only Partridges Are Flying

Wedge AD 676, summer solstice. In midsummer, among the bustling streets of Huainan Road, there is a courtyard covered with orange trees. Cicadas chirp from the courtyard. A pretty woman wearing an orange-flowered wooden hairpin is sitting in front of the desk. At this time, she looks at the drowsy children and sighs. "Don't sleep, I'm going to tell you a story." The children rubbed their sleepy eyes. In the meantime, a bold child stood up and asked her, with brilliance in his eyes. "When is this story, Mrs. Qin?" She held the tea and smiled slightly, "That was about twelve years ago."