Preface: Last night, the falling flowers turned into the clouds of my hometown in the autumn moon, flying to the sky and east.
The sweet-scented osmanthus bushes are hazy, as if there are a thousand layers of mist. The rain hurriedly turned into wind, and the butterflies had long since disappeared.
Ask the sky, when will we meet again? A meeting is worse than a heart-to-heart connection. If you want to get drunk, don't wait until the wine glass is empty!
A word that appealed to the soul made Yue Zhenjie make a decision that affected his life, and the trajectory of his life began from here. There are no adventures, and only those who work silently will have miracles. Can cultural mysteries buried for thousands of years become the accumulation point of miracles?