Flower Bones: White Hair and Red Clothes to Your Heart

[Historical Strategy] [Ancient Romance] [Semi-Fantasy] The early wind blows at the pines, and snow sweeps the courtyard. A few red buds are shining brightly in the frost, and a wisp of plum blossom is clear. The silver thread under the eaves whispers, no complaints in the world. At that time, the osmanthus shadow was lightly crouched in her clothes, picking up the fresh fragrance with bare hands. Now the lingering fragrance on the clothes is light, leaving only half a strand of Qin Ling. If you want to see a blue bird in the clouds, who can rely on it to fly thousands of miles away? Later, whenever Shen Qingheng recalled the spring of the seventh year of Datong, two scents would linger on the tip of his nose at the same time. One is the bitter fragrance of magnolia flowers - that's the smell when I first met him. The other was a dizzyingly rich sweet fragrance, coming from the out-of-season but wildly blooming pear tree in front of the court on her wedding day. Then, there was the smell of blood and fire, coming from the cold and wrinkled military newspaper that was rushed to the wedding hall by eight hundred miles. It was many years later that she understood: It turned out that all the sweetness given by fate was just to make the subsequent brokenness sound more crisp. It lets him climb up into the clouds, just to let you hear clearly the sound of the wind penetrating his bones when he falls. A pear tree blooms extravagantly, just to let you see clearly how each petal resolutely plunges into a grand and silent burial when the spring is at its peak. This story is about the Xinyi flower tree, the burial, and the two people who tried to hold the spring light before they withered.