Give me 3,000 pen and ink to paint you beautiful. Leave me half busy, and the book will last forever. Dream into Jiangnan Road, afraid of meeting, afraid of dusk. The peerless love between Qing and He is as beautiful as a fairy, the ancient meaning in the Peach Blossom Garden is lingering, and the golden times on the Qinhuai River is full of vitality in the clear waves of summer.
"Looking back at the lamp like a flower without words, people are ashamed first ... so the flowers are like flowers, and the joys and sorrows of the past cycle back and forth, so the beautiful face remains unchanged, and the face instantly becomes forever ..." The melody of "beauty" came from a distance, and lingering feelings dragged the lost youth and submissive soul into the lotus again in the bustling late night.
I was born with lotus seeds,
It is difficult to give up feelings and pursue this world;
The gift of reunion on earth has become,
Hate not to meet and not to marry.
The night is dim and the stars are bright. Eyes overflow with hidden secrets, dreams, and open a gentle net. Your breath is a wonderful violin concerto flowing in the evening breeze.
Every lotus flower is comforted by your gentle waves and deeply attached to the past. That shivering bud in the wind, layer by layer, buried the oath of this life.
When winter goes and spring comes, Qinghe lives alone in the lonely night. Orphans who are not caressed look for lost languages in the dark. In the mud of dirty, cold and despair, they regard memories as hope, like torches in the wasteland at night, illuminating their waiting eyes. Like sick mussels, they breed pearls day after day and bury their initial sadness and obsession in their hearts. The story of that summer was the best time in my life when I strayed into the Peach Blossom Garden. ...
Another season, Qinghe's youth is ignited. In the tearful cycle, roses are smoked in April, cherries are splashed by plum rains in May, and Qinghe touches a pool of acacia in June, gently playing the ancient songs of Nanyuan. At that time, it was the end of time and was written by Qinghe for thousands of years.