Lingbo couldn't reach Hengtang Road, but he watched Fangchen go. Who can spend the wonderful years? Yueqiao Garden, with small windows and red doors. Only spring is known, and the flying clouds are rising slowly into the dusk. The new title of the heart-breaking sentence in colored pen is like asking about leisurely feelings. Yichuan tobacco, the city is full of wind and rain, and plums are yellow and rainy.
"It's still full of thorns."
"Beautiful flowers naturally have thorns."
"This is the first time I heard someone praise themselves for their beauty."
"If you don't praise yourself, wouldn't you be beautiful?"
"Please forgive me. As a woman, I fell in love with you, who is also a woman."
"I hate the first time I met you on the river that day. I hate you who knew you were a woman but didn't know how to reject me. I can't forgive you, but I hate myself even more for still missing you."
Intent: The true status of traditional Chinese medicine in history