I love water, it seems to be the sustenance of my life. Looking at it, it seems like I can hear the passage of time.
Ruan Yu, that is his name, I muttered it in a low voice, but the name was like silk, gradually tangled together.
He left, leaving behind the words, Xiaoxiao, wait for me.
He is the prime minister's son. He has a wife and children, so why would he abandon these and come to this small Qiantang River? That meeting was just a scene of his youth and romance.
The creek is clear, the bridge is horizontal, and the pines and cypresses sound in front of the small grave. The green clouds stop, the green clouds stop, and when I think about the past, the oily walls of the car are light. The stream is full of red-breasted birds, and the bridgehead is full of red-heart grass. The rain is beginning to clear, the rain is beginning to clear, the cold food is falling, the flowers are falling, and the young horses cannot bear to walk.
The quiet singing voice coming from the distance is light and lingering.
Conception: