The broken strings are covered with dust, and the remaining pillars are covered with moss. The wind blows through the corridor in the depth of autumn. I always vaguely hear the laughter of the two people facing the autumn wind, but when I look back, there are only fallen flowers all over the steps - the so-called "Happy Years"
There is no more Lu Zhunian in the world, and the world is empty and the cosine is rising
Intention: love
