In the spring breeze, clouds and water, Zi Hui met Luo. Watch the begonia flowers bloom and die, and watch the strange woman casually create all kinds of things in the world on the paper. Love, hurt, first taste of sorrow, let him ride on the lotus disk to catch the moon and fish for stars, and ask about the spring and autumn flowers blooming, leaves falling and snow burying bones. The curtain rolls in the west wind, and the cold fragrance shadows. Zi Hui watched her mother's soul disappear like smoke and snow, the flowers withered, and the lingering fragrance was everywhere. Wandering alone in the water town of Jiangnan, time lengthens the shadow under my feet again and again.
A prince became a variable in the fate of two people, because that time they looked back over each other's shoulders. This time of sadness and sadness has settled. Feng Jinxiangzhen has seen through the sunset. Zi Hui and Luo sat back to back on both sides of the high wall. Playing longingly, thinking about each other. He said that he was declining and waiting to return.
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