The bun is loosely rolled up, and the hair is lightly made up. The green mist is light and green. The flying catkin hairspring is uncertain.
Seeing each other and fighting is like not seeing each other, and being affectionate is like being ruthless. After the music and songs are over, I wake up from the wine. The moon is setting in the deep courtyard and people are quiet.
This is a story that only belongs to you and me