The painting pen, swiping freehand around the fingers, but the tender heart is gone. Is it because you were obsessed with it in the past life, or you can't forget it in this life. The rain at night on the Qinhuai River entangles the water droplets. Who plays the flute? It is the love I owe you in the past life, which has turned into the memory of love in this life. The lights of Jinling City are bleak in the autumn, and the green silk is replaced by frost and rain.
Conception: