A kind of lovesickness, thousands of hairs are all over the river; a piece of sadness, how many flowers fall and break the heart?
She is the veil in the rivers and lakes. Her tears can be seen vaguely in the past; she is the poison that rots the heart and lungs. If you fall in love, you can't quit no matter how hard you quit.
I don't know whether I am the protagonist or a spectator now, but I don't care about the protagonist, nor do I despise this spectator. I just want to flick my sleeves and leave her sight, not to live an ignoble life, not to be greedy, but to die in her world.
Conception: