Wedge:
Obsession, twisting frost and despair,
The plum blossoms complain, the flute complains, the agarwood breaks the plum blossom heart,
The frown still remained, looking at the golden sunset on the horizon, whispering: "Zi Wei, I'm sorry, I forgot about you, I can't do it."
The person sitting on the chair sighed softly, broke off a plum branch, held it in his chest, sniffed the only faint fragrance of the cold winter, and looked into the distance with regret, who will he be with in the end?
The sword rises, the plum blossoms fall, the green blood dances, the song ends and everyone disperses, the fragrance of plum blossoms is still intoxicating, the cold of March 9 is the fragrance of March 9, but no one appreciates it anymore...