Late at night, I dreamed about entering the cold palace, and the moon in the south of the Yangtze River was nowhere to be seen in my dream. The swallows are gone and the flowers are flying on the empty tower, leaving people alone to face the north wind.
As far as the eye can see, the water is as ice-like as iron, and the plum blossoms beside the wind-eroded bridge have all faded. The shadows under the moon are vaguely overlapping each other. If you look carefully, the two shadows are split in the middle.
One shadow fades away, and the other shadow fades away, disappearing into clouds and smoke and deepening into tears. There is a moon in the south of the Yangtze River, a knot in the south of the Yangtze River, a late autumn night in the south of the Yangtze River.
I am willing to be the enemy of the world for you, even if I have to step to the top of the world just to feel you.