Silken tresses entwine, brows like painted silk, leaving only bitter sorrow and regret.
Unbidden, tears begin to fall. If memories could still become a song, why does it never echo in my halls? Why has time ground the face and voice of the one I miss into dust? For whom do I dress, when all that remains is grief? I coil my dark hair for you, adorn my cloudlike tresses and flowerlike face with golden hairpins, yet the wind only makes my heart ache all the more.
Li Xianxiao, in this life, I flourished because of you and withered because of you, yet I lived on in silence, trapped in the stillness of our mutual hatred.
Perhaps we should never have met.
Damn, please keep going, this beginning is so interesting to me
What a great start. . . Sir, please follow up!!!