In the attic covered with lush grass, the beauty had red hairpins hanging from her hair. The rouge-colored lip balm had long been bitten off by her pearly teeth and had lost its color. Her beautiful eyes, filled with love, hatred, anger and infatuation, were filled with tears as she looked at the man who once possessed her and then hypocritically let her die.
After she cried, she understood what the man was thinking.
The Tang Dynasty needs a reason to cease fire.
The people need a peaceful and prosperous era.
She needs to die.
The beautiful woman whose clothes were wet with tears stopped crying, wiped away her tears, tidied up her clothes which were dirty from fleeing, and resolutely stepped onto the top floor of the attic.
She hanged herself at the highest point so that the soldiers outside who were crowded on the mountain could see her death.
The last moment of her life was not just about the love between men and women and the sorrow and separation described in the Song of Everlasting Sorrow.
Who can say that the imperial concubine did not understand why she died before she died, and who can say that she died just for a man's hypocritical and cold love.
She chose to commit suicide in order to quell the unrest.
She couldn't choose her own destiny in that era, but she was never a woman who only knew love.
Her death is worth more than a thousand troops.
She went to her death calmly.
Who can say that she is not doing this for the displaced people
…
The sad piano sound suddenly became high-pitched.
The dark clouds pressing on the sky dispersed, and a beam of dazzling sunlight shone into Mawei Slope. Among the millions of people, all sounds of people and horses disappeared.
The endless silence is bidding farewell to a generation of beauty.
It is also the unfortunate beauty who withers in the torrent of the times, and the delicate flowers that wither.
“Zheng—”
The sound of the piano vibrates.
The girl's fingertips plucked the strings, causing them to vibrate continuously.
Women are never just about love; love is history, a fantasy written by men.
At that moment, the woman standing in front of the torrent of history chose to jump down. Even if it was just to divert the torrent for a moment, the greatness of that moment should not be buried.
At this time.
Nie Mi's drumbeats sounded heavy.
“Bang!” “Bang!”
“Boom!”
The theater was silent for a long time.
The creators behind the stage curtain opened their mouths wide.
"Our music score should be like this?"
"It does not seem."
They focus on lingering love, and their way of expression is softer, like the sound of a mountain spring, and it is definitely not the grand and majestic feeling of Qiao Nian and Nie Mi.
Two completely different styles, but that did not affect their recognition that Nie Mi and Qiao Nian's version brought another perspective of "Song of Everlasting Sorrow" to the extreme.
After a brief silence, thunderous applause broke out from the audience.
"Wow!!"
“Nice!”
Some people clapped loudly and even shouted out loud with excitement.
Hai Tong sat in his seat with an unpleasant expression on his face. He pouted and said, "What kind of taste do these people have? They think it's good, even though it's a mess."
"Music should be elegant. If it's not elegant, it's just underground music that can't be put on the stage."
"Thank goodness Mr. Nie is a music master. With all the crackling music, I thought they were on a rural stage."
Elena ignored her.
His scorching eyes were fixed on the girls on the stage.
She completely ignored Haitong beside her, let alone heard clearly what Haitong was mumbling.
Her heart beat like a drum and her blood boiled.
Qiao Nian.
Qiao Nian.
Qiao Nian.
Elena ran the name over and over in her mind, and for the first time she wanted to take a good look at her 'fiancé's' girlfriend.
This genius who is the same age as her and recognized by many people seems to have some skills and is at least worthy of her attention.
(End of this chapter)