That year, you had a smile as bright as a flower, the corners of your mouth slightly raised, a king's domineering air, the sound of the flute came, and your plain clothes rolled up on the ground.
In an instant, the light of the sword and the shadow of the sword passed by with a wave of sleeves, but your eyebrows were still as picturesque as they were brushed away.
That year, that moment, I stood and stared at the wind and clouds after the blood rain. As far as I could see, it was still the wind and rain of the rivers and lakes, the overthrow of dance, the love of Rong Hua, the love of tears of youth, the love of falling stars...