The cold clouds are blowing at dusk, and the crickets are singing sadly at night. The cool breeze is blowing hard, and the wanderer is cold and has no clothes.
The brocade quilt is left in Luopu, but my fellow robe is against my will. I spent a long night alone, dreaming of seeing Rong Hui.
Sun Quan
The hard drive is in a huge hole, let's start with the short story that has been completed.