The past is like smoke, December is full of joy.
A beautiful lady spends half her life drinking wine and sitting on a lonely autumn bed, rasp by the wind and frost.
Thinking of his shadow in the past, the fragrance sent haze, the alley was warm, and it was prosperous in my dream.
Sigh! Sigh! Sigh! We meet again, half of the hibiscus cannot carry the sharp wind and thin snow, but the female is just lovesick.
Intention: