The years are silent, the beauty has become cold, the beauty in the palace is falling, and the autumn is coming.
The brocade is prosperous and the years are fleeting. Who sighs at the fragile glass tears?
Eternal loneliness and vast world of mortals, saying goodbye and leaping into reincarnation
Who can give up my smile? I forget the end of the world. It's hard for an idiot to forgive the crime of lovesickness.
The long past is old, waiting for a season of sorrow
There is no future, who can compose the desolate music?
The night is not over, the candlelight shines, the music is long, and the dream of a thousand years is dressed in military uniform.
The beauty's black hair has been snowed all night, and the flying sand is stained with blood. How can the lingering fragrance of her sleeves be left behind?
Conception: