I sit on the moss while playing the harp among the flowers, and the spring breeze blows under the green radish tree.
Year after year, the hair of the past is also mottled.
The east wind blows, the bamboo forest plays and the piano plays.
"Ruo'er, we have a fifty-year appointment, will you come today?" The man murmured to himself.
Fifty years - sixty years have passed in this world.
A few years ago...
Concept: Two people, one life love