Ruan Langgui asks for a dream
I wake up from a dream of hatred and enter a nightmare again, but I can't help but fight for the flower field. I moved lightly between the brocade tents with small steps, but I couldn't see the bright sun. Cold heart, peach blossom face, begging for a drunken dance with a dagger. What does the world have to do with family and country? I lean against the golden palace at dawn and dusk.