The clouds are deep and the mist is leaving people's resentment, and the white jade condenses into the cold abyss.
The beauty of the years has quenched all the white jade, leaving only a lingering chill that warms the skin.
The cold leaves of the sky are rustling and falling, and the white reeds covered with frost are unyielding.
I also dreamed of the light green willows in the south of the Yangtze River, and the mist and rain all over the city locked the Huaizhou boat.
Concept: People's hearts are fickle
