The jade tent is empty and the bases are divided, the golden bamboo stick has stopped blowing, and the east wind looks back to make things worse. The lonely smoke in the desert, the rain of swords in the south of the Yangtze River, she only wanted to turn into a flower of interpretation by his side, guarding the man who was like an immortal. When the prosperity is gone, she is his oil-paper umbrella in the snow; she is the three-foot sharp sword in his hand. When he used his crippled body to carry the bloody storm in the world, she stayed behind the nanmu wheelchair. When the horse stepped on the Tianque, he finally promised her a shoulder and promised her that we would never be apart. However, the sea has changed and things are constantly changing. Can they still regain the touching glory when they first met?
