Xue Ruisu's makeup smells of plum blossoms, and she is homesick and melancholy, and the wind disturbs the curtain.
The ice is faint, the phoenix tree is cool, the stars are disturbing, and I wake up and sleep in front of me.
Things change, grievances are ambiguous, and red candles wander in the wedding room, asking where you are.
A pipa wound, a cup of tea is cold, a plum flower is fragrant, and a touch of comfort is stained with silver cream.
Looking in the suburbs in winter
Don
Guimi rock white, pear leaves red.
Gao Jiang's cold hope was exhausted, and he returned to see the sign of the tent.
Xue Jiang
liu zongyuan
There are no birds flying over those mountains, and there are no traces of people in those paths.
A boat, a bamboo cloak, an old man fishing in the cold Jiang Xue.
Wang Anshi's works: plum blossoms
There are some plums in the corner, and cold ling opens them alone.
I knew from a distance that it wasn't snow, because there was a smell coming.
A suggestion from Bai Juyi to his friend Liu.
There is a ray of green in the old bottle and a ray of red in the quiet stove.
With dusk and snow coming, how about a glass of wine? "