The makeup has become paper, and the painting screen is not yet cold and the sunset is shining leisurely;
Who sleeps on a frosty pillow and listens to clear songs and moonlight at night?
I still remember laughing and asking about the depth of my relationship in front of the painting hall;
I sighed again that the twilight turned into smoke, and the wine remained silent.
In the end, I am still afraid that many grievances have not been filled, and the news has changed.