Who squandered their youth and let the years slip away, turning to leave at last with only a goodbye left behind?
The cuckoo cries blood, the pipa strings snap, and a few brilliant moments stain the fingertips.
Tender as flowing water, beautiful as flowers, yet how could young love, so shallow, endure?
Clouds drift and rain falls, all splendor fades away. Who can help but laugh at how many hopeless romantics there have been since ancient times?
Sword in hand, horse beneath me, a lonely city wreathed in smoke, the setting sun keeping me awake.
Theme:
I think this is a book I won't get tired of reading (*￣￣*) But isn't the text Yan Feili →_→ Why does the author have something to say? Cheng Yan Feili