Love is a tacit understanding: although my body does not have bright phoenix wings, I can feel the harmonious heartbeat of the sacred unicorn.
Love is a painting: when you, my love, ride a bamboo horse, run in circles and throw your childhood.
Love is a love and a chance encounter: when a girl meets her, she wins the hearts of countless people.
Love is a kind of love and a declaration: till death do us part!
Love is an agreement: the monarch should be a rock and the concubine a reed; Puwei is as tough as silk, and the rocks are not transferred.
Love is a kind of love and an oath: the mountains have no edges, and the heavens and the earth are in harmony, so I dare to separate from you!
Love is a kind of love and a kind of vision: I wish people a long time and a thousand miles of beauty.
Love is a kind of persistence: the wider the clothes are, the more people will not regret it and will languish for Iraq.
Love is a kind of loyalty: once the sea was difficult for water, except Wushan, not a cloud.
Love is a farewell: holding hands and watching tears without words.
Love is a kind of watch: there are peaches and plums in the small garden, and the flowers don't wait for you to return.
Love is a kind of love and a kind of yearning: I hope you can take more as a symbol of our love.
Love is a kind of love and a charming voice: if you don't think about yourself, is there no one else?
Love is a trace of melancholy: spring is the same, people are empty, and tears are red.
Love is a perfect couple: my beautiful lady and my beautiful gentleman.
Love is a kind of love and a sigh: although Mengshan is there, it is hard to trust Brocade.
Love is a comforting sentence: if two kinds of feelings last for a long time, is it a matter of time?
Love is a response: vote for my peach and return my Qiong Yao.
Love is a kind of sorrow: forbearance in the earth and forbearance in the sky; One day both will end, and this endless sadness will last forever.
Love is a kind of sadness: a cup of sadness, a few years apart. No! No! No!
Love is a kind of love and a kind of resentment: the song of Tatar, about her jade guitar, about their respective resentment.
Love is a kind of love and an obsession: life is naturally infatuated, and this hatred has nothing to do with romance.
Love is a kind of love and nostalgia: heartbroken every year, moonlit night, short roots.
Love is a puzzle: what is love in the world? It's killing me.
Love is love is an eternal swan song: silkworms in spring will keep spinning until they die, and candles will cry dry every night.