C1782 But Why Don't You Mention Zhan Mu?

Xiao Minghe stood silently in the courtyard, memories of his mother's paintings flooding his mind. Among the hundreds of perfect artworks she created, nearly every one featured a firethorn bush. In spring, its branches were lush; in summer, they bore vibrant berries; in autumn, the leaves withered; and in winter, like now, it stood dry and lifeless. Yet, even in its barren state