Outside the green curtain, the shadow of the sycamore tree is visible, and the jade tiger leads the golden well. I'm afraid I'll be late when I hear the cries, and I'll be in love with you until this day every year.
The desolate ground is filled with red hearts and grass, who knows this hatred. I will send new words to express my deep memories and distribute them to the plantains when the wind is set and the moon is tilted.
Concept: A story of waiting