"A tube of wonderful Qing Shang, with long fingers of slender red jade. The snow vines are newly replaced, and the rosy clouds are spinning out of the bag. The sound of revealing is still far away, and the song is still deep. Sitting in the middle, knowing the secret, the smile is Zhou Lang."
Cry, why should I cry? Will watching marches and battles make people cry? I am not a fan or an orange, and I will shed tears for the flying flowers and fallen leaves outside the window. I nodded in understanding, and Sister Mo smiled, "Then go ahead, I'm waiting to hear what you said about the fire on the river that day."