A string of sandalwood beads and a touch of light fragrance.
A jar of bitter wine, drunk for thousands of years.
The horse rides on the mountains and rivers, and the three armies wield the sword. Turning over the clouds with one's hands, there is a universe in one's sleeves.
How can it be compared to the word "love".
Thousands of years of love and hatred, and countless vicissitudes of life, only a few sandalwood scents are left in the world.
Love lasts for thousands of years, idle chatter is false, and I don't like to stray into it.