The birds outside the window are noisy, and the children under the tree are ignorant, seemingly omniscient and half-informed.
"The misty rain cage is full of shadows, and the moonlight is painted with frost. The faint fragrance of flowers, the fragrance of rosemary, who sings with me in the night."
"The smoke hides beautiful shadows, but the blowing cannot dispel the panic. The fragrance of flowers is lingering, the wind carries fog and frost, and the mandarin ducks are also in pairs on the treetops."
Wearing a light purple Yunxiao totem robe, a lotus white belt is tied around the waist, and a silver hairband is on her head, flowing down her shoulders with her black hair. Ling Yuewu turned around and chuckled. How many people will remember this smile many years from now?
When she was six years old, her submissive voice was full of loneliness, and that loneliness sank to the bottom of Qi Moyu's heart.
That's what he owed her.