Lin'an Shuiyunsan

The setting sun is like blood. She stroked the guzheng, and he pressed the keys, and in the rift of time and space, he bumped into the Fengbo Pavilion eight hundred years ago. The iron coat is not cold, the loyal soul is immortal, and the twelve gold medals turn into musical notes and fall. The river red surges at the fingertips, the sound of Qiantang tide spreads over the West Lake, and the unfinished "Lin'an Regret" awakens the sleeping country in the dreams of contemporary people.