You don't have to pick my heart, my husband from Jincheng.
I am the piano on your lap.
I open my breasts to the night, waiting for the tenderness of your fingers.
You don't have to tease me, my husband from Jincheng.
With just a gentle flick, no matter which string is touched, I can't help but groan, and I can't help but tremble, trembling into fragrant stamens.
In the deep sky at the heart of the piano, only wind and darkness passed by in the past. Nowadays, there are waves of sound.
Mr. Gentleman from Jincheng, you filled the cup with spring.