The red and purple colors have turned into dust,
The sound of cuckoo makes summer new.
The road is full of mulberry and hemp,
Only then did I realize that I was a man of peace.
People come and go, come and go, gather and disperse. Why are we so busy? What are we pursuing? And happiness is always met at an age that you can't understand, and then missed. Many years later, Gu Sisheng sighed when he thought of the past. Once happiness was within reach, just be brave and get closer.
The years are quiet and peaceful, and this world is stable. Such eight words, those love, those melancholy, those past. Even if time passes and the beauty fades, so what.