The day we first met, he was dressed in green and wearing a long sword, independent in the wind.
He leaned on the railing and drank, holding a cup to make him drunk.
Under the cover of the desert wind and sand, everyone's face could not be seen clearly, but they all saw another version of themselves.
On the day of separation, he must have been as ignorant of sorrow as a child, his eyes still as clear as water.
As for him, is his green shirt soaked with tears...
The breeze can hardly carry away the thoughts, and the stream of flowers is full of falling red.
Of all the scenery in the south of the Yangtze River, the one I love most is this lush flower stream...
Intention: