Many years later, Wu Xie still remembered the moment when Zhang Qiling rode past.
The snow melted, clear and clear, like the look in the eyes.
The mountains and rivers are silent, and the pine wind flows like water.
What are you still thinking about?
I saw a gentleman bowing his head and looking into the distance.
Who wears a white shirt and crosses the willow bank?
Listen to the rain hitting the pontoon all night.
There are a few lines of ink and an oil-paper umbrella.
In the end, I couldn't hold on to the silver hook and accepted it. The cliff carvings I wrote vividly were also wasted.
The fine foam splashed by the snow waves, the water and the sky intertwined, and finally sank in the wind and rain.
Conception: