Tears from the sea and Wushan clouds, who once bloomed in the bustling world of Zimo. Looking back at dusk, the flower-like face is like the deep affection of the sea, and the shining yellow of the years. Sitting quietly under the bodhi tree, counting carefully, the reincarnation of the falling flowers season after season, soft whispers, and rustling sighs Breathing, strings of lovesickness, the youth that charms the rouge waist, three thousand worlds of mortals are but a piece of ink fragrance, curling up to write about the wind, flowers, snow and moon in the world, write a Tang poem to send you a collection of Song lyrics, blow a flute tune and fall. Tonight, you have set foot on the distant Lanzhou, and the clouds are broken by me, and the sparse shadows are slanting across.