The golden hair on the temples is swaying, the courtyard is deep and the dream is deep, and the corridor is long.
The smoke and dust rise in the palace of the Nine Layers, and the beauty smiles and becomes the king.
Favor is hard to find. Greedy for old dreams, just look at the wind and the moon.
Yesterday there were bonuses and today it is raining. I lean on the railing and look out at the envious mandarin ducks.
The black silk hair sighs, the gorgeous hair and the mirror are dark and haggard. The good times are like a dream, hard to keep.
Why are you talking about three thousand words over wine?
The melancholy of the old joy is like a dream, the distant hatred is hard to contain, and how much sadness there is in the vicissitudes of life.
Who said that once you enter the palace gate, it is as deep as the sea?
And the deep palace has always been a place where women of all ages wrote their legends.
When it comes to love, the king's favor is just a struggle for survival.
Speaking of loneliness, it's just an accessory to victory.
Those who seek power and usurp the throne are just forced by time.
Late at night, I dreamed back, my black hair turned into white hair, my rhombus mirror darkened my makeup,
Good times are like dreams, and dreams are hard to keep. All that is left is the passing years flowing away through your fingertips.
I just regret that I was loved deeply by someone, but I blindly pursued status
In the final analysis, those are all external things
The battle in the palace is probably a thing of the past.
Intention: None