The cinnabar is wrong, the cinnabar is wrong, and a little dark red dyes the clouds.
In the spring boudoir dream, wherever your heart is, the sea of suffering always knows no bounds.
The poplars are in a mess, the poplars are in a mess, and the flying snow is everywhere, sending their youthful beauty.
Time passes quickly, and the great river goes eastward, sweeping away all the sand that has lasted for thousands of years.
——I am a crazy soul in Buddhism, falling into the mortal world just to experience a love disaster
——I am a fool in the world of mortals, my soul is running wild, just to keep a promise
Intention: