Who will stay with you again? Sighing about life, turning over the clutches several times, becomes old age. What I most recall is the candlelight at the west window, but I talk about the rain at home in the mountains. No matter what, we get together temporarily. The Yangtze River is rustling and the trees are swaying, sending off the distant sky and white geese with their wails. Under the yellow leaves, it looks like autumn.
Even if you hurt me many times, as long as you raise your eyebrows, I will not hesitate to live or die.
Just for,
I can get you to smile sincerely for me in this life.