The worst thing is that the world can't keep it, and the beautiful face is like the flower in the mirror and the tree.
It seems that except for memories, all the fresh things are slowly getting older, and even the spring flowers and autumn moon are falling into dust in the north wind——
The bowl of seven-vegetable soup that could not be cashed, those faded and lonely paper figures, and the jar of chrysanthemum wine that finally dried up in the waste... His love, his regret, his pride, his sorrow——
Everything that cannot be tested is no longer pursued by anyone.
Is it complete now?
It's just a frown, but it's in my heart.
I'm talking about the moon.
Intention: Carve a boat and seek a sword
