Fireworks and willow alleys are brightly lit, and rouge and snow powder are dotted on the lips.
The delicate flowers spit out their fragrance shyly, and the peonies wither and fall into the ground.
The pipa language sings in the cold autumn, and there are no old friends under the branches.
The world of mortals was astonished, but Yiren Hongzhuang was left out.