Whether it is the comfort of riding a horse all over the world or the heroism of sitting on a mountain,
No matter how beautiful the fleeting time is, it will go away with time,
When the singing and singing stopped for a moment, she heard someone sighing in a low voice: The mountains and rivers will be silent forever.
Killing her troublesome brother and planting a garden full of black roses, she removed all ties, only to find that everything had become the past, all the past had become despair, the years had become a beautiful desire, and she had exchanged her gorgeous and flamboyant youth for an eternal silence in the mountains and rivers.
In a trance, she heard the misty porcelain flute of her childhood again. Someone once said to her that the bright moon rises on the sea, and the world is at this moment. She vaguely remembers it, but she vaguely does not remember it.