Use antique rhymes to describe the outline of fate. The happiness that she shouldn't have coveted was held in someone's hand, and was written stroke by stroke, her life's persistence.
The smile that never disappears is a loud song; the colors that fill the sky are clearly silent.
She is such a conceited and unwilling woman, even if there are thousands of thoughts in her heart, she will only express it very calmly on her face; even if she is alone in her life, she will end it in a proud way.
But I shouldn't vaguely remember the chants in the waning moon in the morning wind: "How can I help him, with his eyebrows narrowed, he won and lived up to his reputation as a spring heart."