There are fifty strings of Jinse for no reason, each string and one column reminds me of my good years. Zhuang Sheng was obsessed with butterflies in his dawn dream, and looked forward to the emperor's spring heart with cuckoos. The moon in the sea sheds tears, and the warm sun in Lantian produces smoke. This feeling can be recalled later, but it was already at a loss.
Intention: love, hate, hatred, the so-called love