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We spend time together day and night, whispering together, sharing the same bed, and loving each other. After more than four years of getting along, it stands to reason that the stubborn stone should gradually turn into jade, and the grass and trees will be fragrant in midsummer. But recently, the uneasiness in my heart has become closer and closer, like staying alone in a cabin on weekends, spending the day in panic even though there is no danger. I haven't seen the answer yet, I want to continue to get closer to her. My soul became my eyes, and she said she would take me to see the past. My thoughts returned to my body, and I wrote this poem: A gift to Xu Jingshu Baiyun Canggou is in the 28th month, and the sun looks like a fool at the beginning. The stars move eight hundred nights, and the white-headed chants break Zhuo Jun's return. Fushengdongdong is drunk in the morning, and the guqin in the corner is ashes. Wushan Miao Miao returns in the Ming Dynasty, and the farewell book is destroyed and the bamboo flute is played. What happened.