1, the sky is not old, I can't help it. The heart is like a double screen with a Qian Qian knot in it.
2, finally covered the world for the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
3, long streets, countless fireworks, you pick up the lights and look back.
The pavilion is short, the world of mortals is rolling, and Xiao sighs.
4. The charm of Qingyuan is an unreachable sadness, such as the lonely moon in Wei Yun, which can only be seen from a distance.
5, the vast land is broken with a sword, where there is prosperity, where there is music. Hide silence/loneliness by leaning on the clouds, even if others laugh at me.
6, leaving people sad, sad to leave. Fragile thoughts, deep thinking. Fade away, sing empty sorrow. Continue to prosper, and where.
7. Who has a scarlet tear mole in the corner of his eye, and who has been given a rock-breaking empty joy by you?
8. When the fog cleared and I woke up, I finally saw the truth, and that was Qian Fan's silence.
9. Fate gathers and scatters like water, bearing a huge burden, just for a word, waiting for the next encounter.
10, see flowers in the fog, who is always waiting? Looking at the moon on the balcony, there is no end to time.
1 1. What should I do if my heart is too moving? Things are wrong, people are wrong, everything is wrong, and the past cannot be traced.
12, I have a big ambition in my life. With the sword in my hand, I will defeat the whole world. I will prove to the world that one side of the sword is empty.
13, the fate of dust has always been like water, and it is rare to cry. Why should we do our best? Don't be sentimental and hurt yourself.
14, the moon is bright and windy. An ancient pipa soured the attachment of this life. Missing comes at night, dripping in the sea of the moon, all the nights are full, and the trace left by the slightest sound collides with the stupid action in my heart. Tears overflowed my eyes and flowed freely, like a string of tears.
15, get drunk, why bother; Pity the quiet night, thin and bleak. I can't move. A lot of worries make me cry first. On a young night, I strung your warm words together and folded them into Tang and Song Dynasties, setting off tonight's words. A kind of love can only be sent to my dream from a distance, and I, as a butterfly in my dream, dance in the slender moonlight, waiting for the dawn.