The Buddha said that people suffer from eight kinds of suffering: birth, old age, illness and death, the meeting of resentments and hatreds, the separation of love, and the overflow of the five aggregates. The most painful thing is that you can't ask for anything.
Why can't we get what we want? The marriage in the past life and the fate in the next life are mistakenly met in this life, which only adds to a fruitless grudge. Love can't be tolerated, hate can't be tolerated, we are so close, but our fate is far apart. Longxi, Longqing, only the name of joy, but ultimately no wish to bear fruit. One holds the thread of love, and the other breaks the world of mortals. This life, this life, can become eternity.
You are regarded as a proud son, but have you ever inadvertently taken pity on him in the dust? In the ashes, he shines for you.
He is the inconspicuous sand, struggling hard among the clams, finally waiting for your favored eyes and seeing him as your brilliance.
You are you and he is him. I am suddenly happy and celebrated. They are a perfect match. They should be inseparable, but unexpected feelings arise. He is too drunk for you to know how strong the wine is, and you know how important it is to be in love with him. I once wished that he was the mountain and you were the water, green mountains and green waters, endlessly dependent on each other. It's a pity that he can't be the green hills surrounding you, just as you will eventually flow out of his dreams. Waves of light flowed under the peach blossom eyes, but Wangchuan wondered if he still remembered your appearance back then.
So be it, the mountains and rivers will never meet again.