The smoke and water clouds are cold for thousands of miles.
The continuous rain from the south of the Yangtze River is pattering on the bluestone slabs, and from the depths of the misty rain, a touch of green clothes holding an umbrella comes dancing. The person who came had an appearance like pearls and jade, a body like a bamboo, and an aura like a green lotus. His red lips were chanting over and over again:
The smoke and water clouds are cold for thousands of miles.
In this aqua misty rain that spread out one by one, he lowered his eyebrows, as if he was looking at the water splashing under his feet, and seemed to see the bright spring sun in his memory through the thick mist. He raised his lips slightly and muttered over and over again:
The smoke and water clouds are cold for thousands of miles.
The clouds and water are cold, the clouds and water are cold...
As if this could bring back his long-lost lover. He was thinking like this.
The fluttering green clothes melt into the misty rain on the other side of the alley.
Do you know? The mist and the cold water and clouds for thousands of miles are not the human world.
[The above is the copywriting of the literary version]
In fact, this is a bloody story in which a cold-faced and warm-hearted hero conquers a young straight man who is young and artistic (well, it can be said to be pedantic)...
Pay attention to your position and be careful of the bloody thunder. Please place your mouse on the red cross.