牡丹以火炼真金的姿态君临人间，层层叠叠的锦缎在枝头燃烧成帝王的冠冕。 那些由盛唐画师晕染的绯红斑斓，连春风都不敢轻易触碰，生怕揉皱了这身金缕衣。 晨露在花瓣上凝结成珍珠，折射出十二道月相的光芒， 每一片褶皱都是天地精心书写的赋文。 当骤雨撕碎她的华裳，残红却化作春泥中的胭脂印， 在腐朽里孕育着更璀璨的重生 —— 正如真正的王者 ， 即便陨落也要让整个季节为之加冕。

Peonies reign like molten gold, their layered silks blazing into imperial crowns. Crimson strokes painted by Tang Dynasty brushes hang too precious for spring wind to disturb, lest they rumple this golden attire. Dewdrops pearl on petals, refracting twelve lunar phases, each crease a verse inscribed by heaven and earth. When tempests shred her gown, the fallen blooms leave rouge marks in soil, fermenting a grander rebirth in decay—a true sovereign's legacy, even in decline, crowning the entire season.