In troubled times, swords are flying, and beacon fire traces the beauty. Looking back in a hurry, the buds are stained with silt, and the peonies can wither. I don't know whose eyes are returning to the journey, and I pass by inadvertently. So, please let me sing a Chang'an song for them. [*The novice author has not entered Jiansan Pit yet, if there are any bugs, please don't fix them *Various Lily short stories, updated as fast as possible]
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