Hao is lonely and arrogant,
Can't bear to copy the clouds.
Nothing is too high,
Don't blame the plum blossom for landing.
Jincheng Brothers Wei Shuqing Candlelight Scenery Mural White
The powder wall of the high hall is full of flowers, and Cangzhou is clear before the candle.
Hongbo surges with the mountains, and Jiaoruo Danqiu looks at Chicheng across the sea.
In the light, I am glad that the smog has gone out, which means it will snow after it clears up.
Back to the stream, there was no noise, just like the Qin people peeping at the flower source under the moon.
If you don't know, you can only sing autumn apes.
I am happy with you for this. I am singing and singing.
But Gu Haike praised Yun Fan, so he wanted to go to Bohai Sea.
On the wall, Wei Yan drew a juniper fu.
Wei Hou doesn't like me, knowing that I pity your invincible painting.
In the play, the bald pen swept away Huaxiang, and you looked like Xiang went out of the east wall.
A Ma Si, sit and watch thousands of miles like frosty hoofs.
This is really the case in times of crisis. You will share life and death with others.
What Jiang painted was "Ode to the Horn Eagle".
Duke Chu painted an eagle with horns, and his murderous look reached the secluded moon.
The viewer is greedy, but the painter is not careless.
This eagle has a picture on the left, but it's hard to tell whether it's true or not.
The swallow on the beam was not frightened, nor was it empty for nine days.
Mei Fei painted the real Li Longji.
Recalling that Jiao Fei was in Chenzi, lead China was not naive.
Frost yarn seems to be in the state at that time, but it doesn't care about people.
Shangguan Yi, Zhang Yonghua
Chen Fangli Peach Blossom Shop, Julian Cuizhang Phoenix Building.
Cai Nvling sings the brocade rope, and Yan looks up at Joan hook.
The new makeup leaks lightly, and the sleeves are fragrant into the shallow stream.
The rain has not decreased, and I have traveled to Lop, Ling Bo.
Nine Thoughts on Murals
A lifetime of prosperity and decline is no different, and a hundred years of sorrow and joy are empty.
In the dead of night, birds and magpies fight, and real monks are in the forest.
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