That year, there were many fallen heroes.
The dusty past hides the beauty of Mo Lian, and the world is in a trance. I don't know how the passing years will dilute everything.
Fortunately, they met, and everything began when they met under the quiet and beautiful sunset.
She raised her head and fell into a pair of gentle and gentle eyes.
He also lowered his head and was attracted by a pair of clear pools like ink spots.
The two looked at each other across three stone steps, always looking into each other's eyes.
The wind blows and the falling flowers rustle.
Wanggui Pavilion that year.
Hope is also forgetfulness.
The world of mortals comes and goes; what is perishable is exaggeration; what is immortal is the soul.
The mountains and rivers are floating, what is chaotic is the age, what is sinking is the human heart.
P. S.
My level of literary accomplishment is still shallow. I only use a clumsy pen to talk about prosperity and the vicissitudes of life. It may not be as satisfactory as expected, but I hope all literary friends will bear with me. My gratitude is beyond words. Please vote for suggestions: zylz927@foxmail. Com