It is difficult to see each other when I read about my old friends, and the sound of rulers, luan and notes is extinguished.
The sound is pure, the eyes are charming, the moon shines brightly and the flowers fade in the forest.
The flowers in the forest are withering, I am idle in gambling and reading, and I cannot talk about the flower-picking activities.
Unspeakable, the bead curtains are rolled up, and the cloister with patterns of bamboo mats and lamp shadows appears.