The flowers bloomed in the past, and I smiled at the wind and rain that passed by. I didn't know that the wind and rain made me red and weep. Suddenly I looked back, the flowers and leaves withered, and the road was full of residual flowers. The sound of the book is clear and the ink is fragrant. I only know that there is no fate in this life, only the clothes are fragrant. The lonely grave in Qingzhong only remembers the fragrance of pears along the road.
