A peach and a fan.
Two pairs of people, two graves.
A period of pain and joy, two lovesickness.
Two Yihuns, one entanglement.
Beauty and foolishness, looking at each other in green graves.
How many lives and deaths, reincarnations and reincarnations.
Burning peach wood and harp, there is no words to be elegant.
The folding fan is as old as ever, and the ghost is still there.
There is a beautiful woman going on a boat, and she is playing the oar for fun.
He calls himself Bu Yue Xi, looking towards the river.
If you are worthy of your wife, the room will be filled with the fragrance of orchids.
If you bear such a heavy burden, you will appreciate your solitary beauty.