The flowers have fallen into the water. When will the misty rain in Jiangnan return? The sound of the flute fills the night sky with regret, and the mist is like gauze floating in the sky. How can I look back when I can't remember the past? I feel sorry for myself all my life. Now the sea has turned into mulberry fields, leaving only the blue and white flowers in full bloom.
"Xuanyuan Che, some people say that missing is a kind of death. So if I tell you I love you now, it will be too late to save our dead love."
"Qingyan, even if I know everything now, I still can't hate you or forget you. If, if... But, there is no if!"
We, you, they - live by love, die by love, love by love, hate by love...