The misty rain and gauze are blurred, and the mist is like thin fiber. The moon falls over the broken bridge, the stars look to the horizon, and the scenery is like a mirage.
In this mirage-like valley, there was a young man holding a jade glass, half leaning on the stone steps, his lips like thin flaps opening and closing from time to time, with a faint blush on his delicate face. He was obviously drunk, but the jade glass in his hand was held tightly, and the looming dark red in the cup finally made him lose his life to that person.
[This is the first time Mo Mo has posted, so I know that my writing is not good (finger pointing), but I will try my best. If you have any opinions, please feel free to mention them (I understand, but we have all been in the field for many years...) Bow]