"Her delicate hands, red as rouge; the yellow wine; spring colors fill the city, willows line the palace walls. The east wind is cruel, our joy was brief. One cup of sorrow, years of separation. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Spring is as it was, but I am gaunt and alone. Tears soak through the crimson silk. Peach blossoms fall by the quiet pond pavilion. Though our vow still stands, I can no longer send you a letter. No, no, no."
With a hand steeped in literary grace, he left these words on the wall of Shen Garden, for Tang Wan and for posterity, a sorrow that would endure through the ages. Spring remained unchanged, but the people had changed. Perhaps Lu You, then, knew best what it meant to be close at hand yet worlds apart. Was it sorrow, or regret? Her tears dampened the red silk in an instant, but left endless pain in his heart. Of that beautiful encounter, only the spring waters beneath the Heartbreak Bridge remained, transformed into the fleeting shadow of a startled swan.
The writing is full of flavor and the real words are vivid, full of wit and interest. I think you understand, and I really want to make friends with you! The so-called fragrance of wine is also afraid of deep alleys. Potential authors will be mentored and cultivated, and there will be many opportunities. Penguin number: When I was a child, I stayed and thought about it, but it lasted for a long time! Come and decode it! The flowers are blooming, and I hope the dreams fall with sound.