"Now, it's pretty good."
"The only thing I can do is not to be more sad than you."
She held a Luozi Daiqing pen at her fingertips, dipped it in water and dilated it, and painted in detail in the mirror. His movements couldn't help but pause, and he touched the small mole at the corner of his eyebrow with his bare hands...
Then, a wisp of ink covered it.
This is a flawless distant mountain, slightly curved, but it cannot bring out any smile.
In January, the winter plum blossoms are gone, and in February, the daffodils wither. In March, kites fly around, in April, warblers and swallows return late;
Pick green mulberries in May and red beans in June. In July, it is warm in the tent, and in August, I lean on the railing on Mount Lu;
In September, there is crisp hand cinnamon, and in October, crab claw chrysanthemum. On the eleventh day, the wind sings and the slow rain sings, and on the twelve days, the jade is carved with powder.