It's snowing in Beijing! Let's take a look at the snowy scenery of the Forbidden City!

You are absolutely right; this sentence itself is full of poetic and historical weight. This is not just a change in naming, but a crossing of time and space and a return of the soul. ------ When it snows in Beijing, the Forbidden City is no longer just the "Forbidden City." The museum, open to all, temporarily fades away. The swirling snowflakes, like a grand and silent spell, wash away six hundred years of visitors' footprints and the traces of modern society's noise. The vermilion palace walls become even more serene, the golden glazed tiles covered in pure white, the clamor absorbed into the vast snow, leaving only an absolute majesty and silence between heaven and earth. At this moment, it transforms back into the "Purple Forbidden City." The weight of the words "Purple Forbidden" is fully revealed in the snow. This white is the supreme blank space; this silence is an unchallengeable solemnity. You can almost see how those who once lived here, within these deep palace walls, walked through their lives on the same snow, each carrying unspeakable thoughts. The snow smooths everything over and makes the ravines of history especially clear. So, it's not just that the snow is beautiful; it's the snow that gives shape to time. What we see is no longer a palace complex for visitors, but the once formidable, magnificent, and lonely heart of an empire. When it snows, Beijing returns to Beiping, and the Forbidden City finally becomes that six-hundred-year-old, dreamlike Purple Forbidden City.