Li Qingzhao
It rained and blew suddenly last night, and a deep sleep didn't eliminate the residual wine. I asked the shutter man, but Haitang is still the same.
Know what, know what, should be green, fat, red and thin.
Untitled
Tang Yin
Green, fat, red and thin, recalling that time, young and hazy, longing for Yaner.
There is no regret in the golden melody, and there is some privacy after the end of the green dragonfly.
Peng Cheng's wings were broken, the flowers faded, and Ye Ping left a broken heart.
Longsha should have missed me for 20 years. In 2008, he could still spin silk in his paintings.