That year, the wind was gentle, the trees were shadowed, the flowers were beautiful, and the moon was full.
That year, the waterside pavilions in the south of the Yangtze River were beautiful and charming.
That year, who was singing "Niannujiao" softly.
Childhood is over, the waves are flying across the sky magnificently.
When old age comes, I look to my side and laugh and cry.
He once walked the small roads north and south of the Yangtze River.
And often think about it, vaguely where the waterside pavilion returns.