I only use this article to commemorate the concubine Xiaoxiang, and the scene of Zhi Yan burying flowers.
The soul of a flower is hard to retain as the soul of a bird. The bird is speechless and the flower is ashamed.
May I have wings this day and fly with the flowers to the end of the sky.
Where is the fragrant hill at the end of the sky?
It is not like a brocade bag to collect the beautiful bones, but a cup of pure soil to cover the romantic flow.
Conception: