Mountains and singers have their eyebrows narrowed, and the waves have drunken eyes. Tourists all go to the thirteenth floor. Don't envy Zhuxi's songs and praise ancient Yangzhou.
Lin Luo suddenly felt very lonely, as if everything in the world had left him, only "Qing Xiu" was still in his hand; the blade of the sword was as clear as a stream of autumn water, as gentle as a lover's eyes. The dark lines on the side of the knife are looming like distant mountains.
The breeze blows gently on the West Lake, the air gradually becomes moist, as if raindrops are falling, and the mountains in the distance are empty and mist-like. In the distance, there is still a song playing faintly, and the song is still the song by Xuexue Shi:
... Whose water tunes the singing head?
The sound flies around the green mountains and leaves the evening clouds.
Conception: