Let others go to war, you, lucky Austria, get married! What the God of War can give you, and the God of Love can give you. The smoke of the Napoleonic war has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is already full of holes. Under the seemingly uninterrupted appearance of peace, there is an undercurrent whirlpool of the times, the tranquility before the storm. The air is filled with fog of sweat and choking black smoke makes it difficult to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and wearing West Pretending to be fat, pushing me and rushing, glutting with the feast of the world, Van Gogh's self-portrait hanging on the wall, and waltz lingered in his ears. Suddenly the music turned into a marche, and the picture turned to the battlefield. The soldiers walked in a neat row of stairs and walked towards the machine gun wire. A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke of gunfire, countless cavalry rushed to the position where the artillery was located. With the huge noise, a wooden plane flew over the ground, then quickly rose, breaking through the clouds, and shining.