The willow silk is long and the spring rain is thin. The sound of flowers is delivered far away.
The wild geese are frightened, and the crows rise in the city. Painting screen with golden partridge.
The fragrance mist is thin and penetrates the curtain. Melancholy Xiejiachi Pavilion.
The back of the red candle is draped with embroidered curtains. Mr. Meng Chang doesn't know.
In the dark world, who is messing up whose world, and who can't escape the entanglement of fate.
Destiny is unfolding, the sun's shadow is slow, I look at the green pond, and sing drunkenly at dusk.
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The protagonist hasn't played it all yet, don't give up, he will come back.