The years are slightly cooler, and a long misty rain has soaked whose memory, and whose dark and frosty Jiangnan has left behind whose gentle and lingering dreams. If you give me a hosta, I will tie your hair long. Wash away all the lead, and from now on, the sunset will be over the horizon. If we love each other, we will hold hands until we grow old; if we are not destined, we will keep you safe. I don't ask to stay with you, I just want to accompany you on your journey to the end of the world. Three thousand prosperity, at the snap of a finger, will be nothing more than a handful of yellow sand a hundred years later. The mist that spreads for a thousand miles, you are walking and going in it. So I spend my whole life walking your way. Thinking about the whirling world, with no place to fall; seeing all kinds of red and purple, turning into gray after a moment's notice.
I promise you that the wind and snow will grow old. The sky is three thousand feet high and the earth is five hundred feet thick, but they are not as good as the love between you and me. But we know each other once we have seen each other, and it is better to see each other than not. Ande and you are inseparable, so we don't have to worry about missing each other in life and death. A bright branch meets the spring breeze, and the peach smoke is crispy and rouge. The hairpin is exquisite, and the hair is carefree. The color is heavy, the fragrance is light, the moon is light, and the words are sparse and the notes are tight and affectionate. When there is no family member, the years pass by in a hurry. White tea and pure joy have nothing else to do. I am waiting for the wind and you. Bitter wine breaks the willows and now we are separated. There is no wind, no moon and no you. Use my three lives of fireworks to exchange for your lifetime of confusion. The street is long and the fireworks are numerous. You turn on the light to look back. The streets are short and the mortal world is shattered. I sigh again.
Half a bottle of wine, facing each other in loneliness, not hearing the sound of long live, long live, long live, only old friends crying when they see you. Finally, the mist and rain from the south of the Yangtze River covered the world. After letting Hua give up, it was only a moment, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever. The time is quiet and good, and I talk to you; the years are flowing slowly, and I am with you; the prosperity has faded, and I am old with you. The sky is covered with frost over the ten-mile flat lake, and every inch of blue hair is filled with worries about the past. Looking at the moon to protect each other, I only envy the mandarin ducks but not the immortals. After so many years, the good times and beautiful scenery should have been just in vain, but even if there are thousands of customs, who can tell me. A song and a glass of wine. Broken heart, painful lovesickness. If the time is reversed, can we join hands and play music all over the world?
Concept: ancient romance