"It's better to roll up a bead curtain than to roll up a bead curtain when the spring breeze blows ten miles along Yangzhou Road." A long time later, this poem still hung on her crooked neck.
A long, long time later, when the hustle and bustle of the wheels of time rolling over mercilessly gradually disappeared, whoever accompanied whom "the years are quiet and the world is stable."
There are things you know or don't know, understand or don't understand…
There are some things that I remember and moved, plain and warm...