On the top of Cangshan, in the twilight snow, there is a white shadow.

He stood still among the peaks, holding a piano in his arms, his eyes lowered, motionless.

The twilight snow fell all over his long inky hair and his lowered eyelashes, and he was like a still sculpture, turning himself into a painting in the vast snowy landscape.

After a long time, he moved.

The slender fingertips landed on the austere lyre. He held the harp, his expression was gentle, and the stars flowed in his deep eyes, as if he was staring at someone engraved in his heart with a carving knife.

Slowly, he smiled.

With a smile like a spring breeze on his lips, it seems to melt the ice and snow of a thousand mountains.

He gently wiped the ice-stained body of the instrument, gradually revealing its simple appearance.

It's just a very ordinary piano.

The blue-black pattern is so simple that no one will look at it more.

Its body has vicissitudes of life, like the inscription carved by the carving knife of time.

No one knows that it has gone through thousands of years, seen the glitz of the world, and the vicissitudes of a hundred generations.

It is like a thread that leads from ancient times to the present. But that was the only memory he had.

He was waiting for someone, and he waited for a long, long time, so long that he almost forgot her appearance, but he still remembered her Qingyue's laughter and Qingling's piano sound.

One day, he finally found her.

But one day, he lost her again.

And this time, he didn't know where to wait for her.

There is no trace of her anywhere, and she is nowhere to be found.

It was as if she had never existed, as if he had never found her.

Sometimes he has the illusion that he really met her? Did he really wait for her? Is she really back?

She...... Will it be back?

The whistling sound of wind and snow in my ears was in my ears.

It shouldn't be this way. He whispered in his heart.

This should not be a world infested by wind and snow. She loves flowers, she loves butterflies, she loves beautiful and warm things.

It's cold here, and she doesn't like it when she thinks about it, so she doesn't want to come back.

He was silent, and his jade-colored fingertips slowly fell on the piano.

The melodious sound of the piano slowly swayed from the fingertips, rippling in circles.

Just like the spring breeze blowing through the frozen lake, blowing through the world of ice and snow, blowing thousands of trees and flowers in full bloom.

The snow melts and melts into the wet soil.

Colorful flowers are in full bloom, and colorful butterflies are flying.

He silently looked at the thriving world, but his heart crossed the unnamed desolation.

The flowers on Mo have bloomed, are you willing to return slowly?