The fox with many spirits is also lonely, whining in the night when the semicircle is missing. . . . . .
Who's to say it's her fault? An innocent fox, but lonely and enduring the world! Overflowing with the worldly world, a trace of emotion jumped down from the branches without a shadow, as if searching for that good time, but also felt desolate!
Who can say who is whose?
Just be miserable. . . . . .
Countless haze, breathless, speechless, wandering in the world, like a fox, how can it not eat the fireworks of the world?
Are they buried by fallen flowers or running water? The purity of falling flowers can only be lost, while the flowing water can only indulge and become worldly!
The resentment of a fox has human feelings. . . . . .
It was poignant and desolate, just like her heart. . . . . . In depression, it is the same as the beginning and the end, unchanged!