The cold rain in the sky pits the dawn mist, the stars are dew, and the flowing light is dancing. How far away are the mountains and rivers? There is no trace of Guihong, and it is difficult to write on the red paper.
The sound of copper arrows shatters the golden pot, and the color of water dries up as time goes by. I don't complain that the good time has been delayed, but I am afraid that when we meet again, the flowers will fall into the water, and my heart will no longer be as good as before.
Conception: