It was an old mist. There were crystal water droplets on the pear blossoms, and they fell into the wind of the mortal world. The swords and shadows on the battlefield reflected the cold moonlight, and in the eyes of the long-sleeved singer who was good at dancing, they burst into broken dreams on the Crescent Moon Spring. Do you still remember the snow falling in the air that year? Has the desolation of the solitary desert wiped away the tenderness at the corner of your mouth? The most painful thing is lovesickness, and the unbearable sadness is separation. If you like it, just collect it. Only by collecting it will I be more motivated.
Conception: