Those days gone by like a sail, the young and graceful faces, under the Xinyi flower stand, half a cup of thin tea gently calls to the young man, and the blue and white clothes are engraved on the eyebrows of the old man. Whose gentle smile melts like spring water, and whose eyebrows are as curved as indigo mountains in the distance. Listening to the cold flute, soaking through the clothes, drinking wine and pushing the inkstone, what is life like with a little cinnabar?
The long-lasting joy in those dreams, the deep-seated sorrow and sorrow, are all scattered into the wasteland of time in the gentle twists and turns of light years. Whose lovesickness turns around gracefully, and whose regrets multiply silently. Seeing that the world is in chaos, Ping Xuan can only write for a foot long, and the smoke is flying, telling his long-cherished wish of immortality for only this life.
The text is calm and elegant, but there are also bumpy chapters. I hope you can calm down~~ I will try my best to satisfy everyone. In addition, because I am a student party, my coursework is heavy and updates are slow, so I can also read again...
Sincerely~~ Salute! !