Maybe they are acquaintances, but they should not know each other when they meet. Sitting alone on the city wall on a rainy night, watching the fireworks in Chang'an, I was deliriously lovesick. The night wind breaks the sound of the flute and the sound of the konghou. In order to see my beloved, I go there alone. In a small boat, going down the river, I suddenly heard pipa playing and singing. I went to look for the sound and saw the lady enjoying the glass.
It looks like a flower, but it still doesn't look like a flower, and no one cherishes it. Leaving home on the road, thinking is ruthless and thoughtful. The lingering damage to the soft intestines makes the delicate eyes want to open but also close. The dream travels thousands of miles with the wind, looking for the man's whereabouts, but is still called by the oriole. I don't hate that these flowers have all flown away, I hate that the red flowers in the West Garden are difficult to decorate. Dawn has come and the rain has passed. Where is the trace? There is a pool of broken apples. There are three parts of spring scenery, two parts of dust, and one part of running water. If you look closely, you can see that they are not Yanghua, but the tears of Li Ren.
Conception: