The temple is so high, the clouds are turbulent, and every step is startling;
Far away in the rivers and lakes, there are flashes of swords, blood, shadows, and murderous intent.
Vanity Fair is the Tomb of Heroes, where young people grow old.
In the thicket of conspiracies, in the forest of swords and guns, the mantis stalks the cicada, with the oriole behind.
Who is the hand that stirs up the turbulent waves in the sky and stirs up the wind and thunder in Jiuzhou?
Love is easy to let go, but the heart is hard to take back. The truth is also false when it is fake.
How can tenderness like water rival his domineering king's picture?
Flowers facing the moonlight night turn into sand between fingers in the blink of an eye.
It is better to go back and see the faint green mountains and the distant flowing water.
Let him take pictures of the railings and see the horizon.