One journey up the mountain, another journey towards the water, walking towards the bank of Yuguan, where thousands of tents are lit in the dead of night.
The wind is blowing, the snow is blowing, my hometown dreams are shattered, and there is no such sound in my hometown.
What I love is Jamel Xiao galloping on the battlefield, not the lonely and widowed emperor. What I miss is the cold moon in the north, the thousands of miles of west wind and the vast sea of sand. What I yearn for is the leisurely rivers and lakes, drinking a pot of turbid wine under the lamp.
I don't want these pearls and emeralds, Jinling is prosperous.
Job adjustment, take half a month off. April 1, 2019