Traces of the Sky

Tang. Prosperity is like a brocade, the prosperous age is peaceful, and the world's seas and rivers are clear. At night. The moon is like water and the lamp is like a bean. The cool mountain air mixed with the chirping of insects floated in from the window, soaking people's breath freshly. The candles flickered on the wall, and the dim yellow poured all over the floor, dyeing the clothes into ancient paintings, and became dense and dense. Sitting on a simple bamboo chair, I began to adjust my mind. "Zhengzheng!" In the hut, the old man sitting opposite began to play the piano. The skinny and old fingers quietly play the tune of fate with the traces of time, crying and complaining, miserable and lonely. This was the song he played every night, for decades. "Remembering the Jade Song". Recall that fiery figure that passed through life like a shooting star but can never be forgotten. The back of the woman who fell with the red star. They had such a happy, happy, and beautiful time as three people.