The Spring Mountain Is Empty, I Don't Know You

On the day I married into the East Palace, he cut down the acacia tree with his own hands, just because the fortune teller said that when the acacia tree was in full bloom, I would take away the fate of his sweetheart. He had never looked at me in the past three years. On the night when I suffered a hemorrhage due to dystocia, he was painting with Bai Yueguang in the side hall. Ten years after my death, he accidentally opened my dowry wooden box. There was no cursed doll in it, only a dried peach blossom he gave me when I was young, and a poem I secretly wrote: "If I were the Qing Emperor in his lifetime, I would repay the peach blossoms with blooming." That night, he knelt in front of my grave and cried until his voice became hoarse. He wanted to call me, but found out - he never knew my name.