When I put down the pen, I started calmly, the light crimson color caused the peaks to turn hundreds of times, and the bright moon gently embraced me;
I stood up and took a quick look, only to see the mist covering half of the window, I couldn't help feeling melancholy;
The copy is easy to rewrite, but the fragrance of ink never fades away, leaving a lingering flavor;
There is only one stroke of hanging pen, like thousands of deep waves on the shore, and the eyebrows are stretched.