The morning breeze is cool and the night is cool, the moon is stained with silver frost, and I paint the peach blossom makeup with my pen; I drink a cup of peach blossom wine and play a piano with a long sound. The black hair is blown by the wind, the robe is fluttering lightly, and the sorrow of falling flowers is engraved between the eyebrows
Concept: Secularism is inevitable, romance will last until death.