One is the face of a resolute and masculine king, and the other is the charming face of the alluring country. The memory on the rope is excellent, the sky is vivid, and the smile is difficult but transparent happiness. Street performers and ordinary people in the market, but like the snuggling flowers blooming on the hillside, under the oppression of the wind and rain, they still huddle together and warm each other.
It's just that the face is so beautiful. When it is pure and pure, when it cannot bear to be stained, it will provoke cruel thoughts. He took his hand and told him not to go. Then he raised the scythe for him, with hands so beautiful that they would tremble at the killing of a chicken.
Walking across the small bridge and flowing water, they walked to Seoul, but they didn't know that fate only allowed them to walk from one trap into another secular trap.
Only when the talent is revealed, as an artist, can I be happy. When Kong Ji was moved by the tears of the tyrannical true king, everyone knew that it was an unknown abyss.
The real king likes to ask people, "Why?" The king is always alone. Perhaps, the most hated thing for such a king is betrayal.
Kong Ji has changed, they could go back then and continue their wandering life. How happy should it be, is it just because of the tears of the true king?
He drew the knife again, this time, it was his closest relative, the head of the class. This time it was he who wanted to keep him, "you've gone crazy". Dark crowds and nights, a favored war of scrambles brought disaster to the beautiful actor. Once again, once again, the man who supported each other bravely stood up to protect his lover. It's a long story, a sequel to him admitting to stealing a ring 8 years ago, the kindness of learning to write from each other, and the naked chest that can shield him from arrows.
When I watched it, I thought of Farewell My Concubine. The people in front of the state machine may all be pawns on the stage, like paper. When such a mechanism is overwhelmed, the soul can be crushed. In the film, Lushui's wry smile like a prophet during the rebellion, has exhausted the sorrow after the prosperity and luxury have been exhausted. Feelings become lines in the wind, and once involved, the world turns around. When freedom is impossible, can you raise the scythe for him again?
He didn't cry like a man, or he was a man made of water, and only in his warm, damp mud could white flowers bloom.
View more about The King and the Clown reviews
