People say: In a very frozen land, there is a child in the snowy field, with a charming voice, white skin, eyes like the moon, and hair like snow; a poem laments: The winter butterfly has been miserable forever.
This beautiful story ruined two peerless beauties.
That touch of white is so miserable. That color is red, concealing the mistake.
Away from the sail, there is no way to travel on water.
The kite has no hold, and the wind gently raises the eyebrows.
Like the ripples of water, the sound of the river sounds like a bell in my sleeves.
Aiyuan wanders in the grass, and the suburbs are like clear graves and the slopes are like fields.
——"Reduced word magnolia·Leaving the kite is like mourning"