With a delicate face, slightly curled eyelashes, and picturesque eyebrows, leaning against the carved wooden lattice of the window lattice, when looking up at the clear sky, the smile hanging on the corner of the lips is like mist, making people inadvertently fall into those clear eyes, sinking forever.
It was this startling glance,
It seems familiar,
If you want to talk, stop talking.
How many red proverbs are there?
Just like that, the red candles in the west window shed tears,
If you keep cutting, it will become messy.
Can the love that was secretly born in childhood be able to stretch and twist into a concentric knot?
What kind of undercurrents are hidden behind similar names?
Can two proud hearts get closer quietly?
Qingluo, such a wisp of soul lost in distant time and space, quietly exudes a delicate fragrance.