Nalan Xingde's "Mulan Hua Ling Na Jue Jue Ci Cambodian Friends"
If life were just like the first time we met, why would the autumn wind be sad to draw a fan.
It can change easily. But the heart of an old friend is changeable.
After talking about Lishan in the middle of the night, the tears, rain and bells will not complain in the end.
How can I be so lucky to be a man in brocade clothes, even with branches on the same day? Wish.
"The Hairpin-Headed Phoenix" by Tang Wan
The world is thin, human nature is evil, and flowers tend to fall when the rain comes at dusk. The morning wind dries, leaving traces of tears. When I want to write down my thoughts, I talk alone in Xilan. Difficult, difficult, difficult!
People are different, today is not yesterday, and the sick soul is always like a rope on a swing. The sound of the horn is cold and the night is dark. Afraid of being asked, I swallow my tears and pretend to be happy.
Hide it, hide it, hide it!