Things in the world are like a painting.
The distant mountains with light eyebrows turn thousands of times, who can tell clearly?
Things in the world are like a game of chess.
I figured out the beginning and went through the process, but I still couldn't predict the ending.
She is as bright as the bright moon, unparalleled in the world.
He is as handsome as a gentleman and can't bear to look directly at him.
He was as clear as a husband, and he caught a startling glance.
But due to fate, in the end, it is still a wrong body and a wrong life.
Who can understand?
Is this "perfection" after all things are done, or is it not "perfection"?