All the memories that can be remembered are just the past that has been blown away by the wind. The mist and rain from the south of the Yangtze River covered the whole body, like fading duckweed. When the dust settles, all the lead will be washed away. In the end, the mountains and rivers ended in eternal silence. The remaining flowers are in a mess, and the mist and rain are flying. Who missed whom in the cycle of reincarnation? In the intertwined fate, who is holding on to whose waiting? Is it love or a nightmare? It's the exquisite grain or the rising smoke. Which thought can be immortal, whether it is Nirvana or eternal attachment.