I once said that Xu Jun would never leave, but that was just a joke. . .
I only blame fate, why did I meet you? The ink stains the blooming and falling flowers, and the pen records the comings and goings of the world of mortals.
Open the folding fan, say goodbye to the pen, the smile has no choice but to disperse, the scattered chess pieces, the game was with you. . .
The smoke is too vast, missing the wind and dust, missing the smile, missing you and me. . . . .