It's hard to say goodbye when we meet, the east wind is powerless and the flowers are withered.
The spring silkworm's silk will not be used up until it dies, and the wax torch will not dry until it turns to ashes.
Preface
Looking at the West Lake, where are you now? My former lover, I miss you in the middle of the night when there is no one around. I only wish you would visit me at night and tell me that none of this is true. Tell me that it is possible to meet you again in this life, drink a cup of West Lake Longjing, have a warm chat, like old friends, talk to each other with a flat heart, no more barriers and complaints, no more pain, uneasiness and fatigue, no more worries about parents, There will no longer be worldly obstructions, and the future is unresolved. Please don't talk about rewards in the next life, pray for meeting again in this life, and pray for heaven to bear witness. I have bitter words in my heart. If I have a chance to come to Hangzhou again, please let us pass by each other without any complaints or regrets. . . . . .
My lost love affair with the West Lake for three years, the plain story, as misty and unpredictable as clouds, let me reminisce, sort out the fragments, and look forward to new clues and good moods to accompany you and me.