When they first met, Li Qiuyun played the harp, thinking that the sound of the harp was ethereal and attracted gods.
I don't know, when Yunlin heard the music of the piano, he thought it was the Qionghua that had become a spirit, playing the piano to capture the soul.
It's old friends meeting each other.
It rains slightly in August, the sky is blue, the sparrows chirp and echo, the viburnum flowers outside the pavilion are wet, and the tips of the flowers are wrinkled.
Li Qiuyun looked back at the man in the distance. There was no wave in the ancient well, which made him feel a little funny.
It turned out that it was all wrong.