"There is a woman who is like a cloud, but she really misses me. Even if it is three thousand pieces of weak water, I should only drink a ladle from Qiqiaolou Biwu Xiaoyuan."
"Anyway, one hand is used to it and is a little tired. I just want to try something new. I don't know if I can pour wine with my left arm?"
Flying flowers are also memories of dreams, and cloud threads are also foggy shadows.
The jade stove has a faint fragrance, and the fragrance also disappears with the wind.
The boundless drizzle is like sorrow, how can I leave the sorrow behind?
(PS. Actually, I don't know whether this article is about romance, fantasy, or politics...)