Could it be said that things are really like a spring dream that has no trace, and the clouds are flying everywhere? Think about it a hundred years later, when our beauty has withered and our youth has turned into dust, will we still miss each other?
Maybe missing is just missing the lost time. Hundreds of years are fleeting, and we should enjoy life like a gorgeous feast, no matter when we wake up after people leave, or when the rain stops and the song subsides. The same can be done to three people on the moon, and the same can be done with high candlelight and red makeup. I remember when I was young, you loved chatting and I loved laughing. There are fifty strings of brocade strings for no reason, each string and column is reminiscent of the past. Jinse is unprovoked.