I went to the place where the green poplar tree once folded, and without saying a word, I lowered my whip and walked all over the Qingqiu Road. The dead grass is hanging all over the sky without any intention of knotting, and the sound of wild geese is far away heading towards Xiaoguan.
I don't hate the hard work in the end of the world, I just hate the west wind, blowing dreams into the present and the past. There is still a long way to go tomorrow, and the clothes are stained by the fresh cold rain.
It was just when the warmth returned to cold, Prince Qiao sat in the boat, looking at the cold lake water without saying a word. The wine on the small stove was boiling and gurgling.
After a while, Young Master Qiao withdrew his unfounded gaze, took the wine from the stove, and poured himself a glass. He stared at it for a moment and said: "Love knows that the white lotus flowers in the sky are as green as the bamboo leaves in the world." He raised the cup far away, raised his neck, and drank the cup...
