I have heard. Summer in the Seven Cities is as beautiful as poetry and painting. I have also heard that summer in Qicheng is as hot as a cage.
The master walked very fast, carrying his mottled wine bottle, and I could never keep up with his pace - he had endless stories in his mouth. My favorite are the stories that take place in the Seven Cities.
"Master, where are the Seven Cities?"
"Seven cities - at your feet,"
I don't believe it, because everything I see is devastated.
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It was already dark, and there were many lamps lit in the palace, each lamp lighting up its own small area of the world. The dragon-carved chair was glossy and had a slight luster under the dim light.
He had a long dream, and when he woke up, he was lying on the table.
"Huai'an" he murmured.
"The old slave is here"
"You said it's been summer for so long, but why is it a little cold?"
Huaian tucked away the clothes on his body and did not answer.
"This summer doesn't feel like summer," he murmured.
This summer is not summer and it is bone-chillingly cold.
Intention: love, hate, love and hatred