Meet the red forest, hand in hand winding path.

Ink dyed the notes red, and clouds and water made a song of thoughts. The long scroll of clouds soothed the parting kiss and swallowed the bitter coptis root. The autumn wind whirls and the setting sun shines obliquely. Put on a warm coat and hide in the window lattice. Looking at the moonlight, the flowing water gurgles, and the oil-paper umbrella covers the long shadow.

Meet the red forest, hand in hand winding path. Qingshan Hongshan is affectionate and trickling. With a faint understanding of poetry, it is quiet and comfortable in youth, falling down a first-class mountain stream, like the fragrance and grace of Bai Mei. A cloud ballad, dancing in the clear shadow, picking red leaves in late autumn, burning out the love songs between the mountains and ridges, leaving a little trace in your arms.

Deep in the maple leaf, the phoenix tree dyed autumn, washing away the lead and thoughts. It is the red dust in autumn, the unclear vein in the red leaves, and the inexhaustible youth in the colors. Bundles, paragraphs, articles, wandering around the world, looking for that blossoming heart flower.

Red dust and autumn rain, a chill. Wearing a dress and dancing feast on the shoulder, holding a broken glass of water, making waves, running ink all over the tissue paper on earth, and blue and white flowers can't hold their umbrellas lightly have all become memories of yesterday. In the vague sight, you disappear at LAM Raymond Ferry.