Sitting in the power of the world, but pitiful and lonely in the east of the pink wall; wild and uninhibited, romantic and suave, but secretly thinking about what is breaking people's hearts; the person painting the boat is like the moon, and the drizzle is falling on the poplar flowers. I'm afraid that my infatuation will ruin the world. I always remember the words spoken outside the green screen window, but in the end, there is no one saying anything under the flowers.