The graceful figure sways gently, as soft as clouds, as elegant as wind; the slender arms slowly overlap, as quiet as the moon, as soft as sand. With a touch of shyness, the bright moon peeked out drunkenly, and its blush dyed the sunset by the river red. The blossoming waves are the embellishments of the beautiful long dress, and the wonderful lightness of the waves attracts the waterbirds sitting on the branches. They flap their wings and hover by the river, wandering around the delicate figure, singing softly. . The waterfowl plucked out the softest feather and pinned it quietly on the hair of Gao Pan. The bright moon combed the layers of light and reflected it on the river. Looking at the bonfire in the distance and the blue of the river, in the distance, slender fingers are holding the bright moon on the shore, flowing like water, flowing...
Is it the floral flowers on her skirt that are dancing? Or is her bright water flowing? A long red ribbon was tied to her black hair, and the ribbon danced lightly in the wind. The soft black hair draws slender arcs in the wind, connecting the bright moon and the green water. There is no barrier or boundary. The moon is in the water, and the water is in the moon. They are inseparable, as if the branches are connected. Trees, snuggles, hugs, there is no distance that cannot be crossed, and there is no moment of hesitation. The bright water eyes penetrate the blur of the moon and look into these pure eyes, which are as transparent and clear as water, leaving behind the round outline of the moon, like thin silk threads interspersed on the embroidery by deft little hands. , so the moon flashed in the water, and during the flash, there was more concentration and calmness in the night. How I hope that when she dances lightly, the red ribbon will gently fall off from its tip, secretly weaving the red ribbon into a butterfly, flying in the bright moon, stopping in the most sincere gaze, and settling into a butterfly that will never fade. *memory. What a longing, when she swayed, a long hair fell softly on the palm of her hand, quietly woven into the colorful brocade, every stitch, every needle and thread, all dancing slowly. Just like the clear water on the river, under the reflection of the bright moon, it is rippled and as thin and soft as sand.
Perhaps it is the stunned gaze that stops the hurried footsteps; perhaps it is the slightly raised and smiling willow eyebrows that pauses the panicked gaze; perhaps it is the gentle voice like an oriole that reincarnates in the years. Afterwards, I still miss the old reminders. Follow Mingyue secretly, admire the figure dancing alone by the river, and indulge in the soft warmth. Inch by inch, step by step, it surrounds, like a stove in the cold, slowly warming the cold body; bit by bit, drop by drop, it spreads, just like the water drops dripping from the eaves, slowly wiping away the dust. window lattice. The hissing flames are burning brightly, as gorgeous as the bonfire overlooking the river, and the soft red light illuminates the dim night; the ticking water drops are as dense as curtains, as deep as the bead curtains hanging in the room. Then, the tinkling sound smoothed Qian Mian's frown. How longing to put this gentle figure at the end of the world and look at it from afar. If you like it, follow her and draw circles on the stone wall at the end of the world. Inside and outside the circles, there are curling smoke, sweet sunset, blue waters, and peaceful moon. Drops of sweat, glances, and smiles merged together to become the sharpest and most dexterous carving knife. Carving murals on the stone wall that will never fade, wind and rain cannot erode, and time cannot erase. And that touch of tenderness is still dancing on the corner of the sea. The bright moon will only stay for her, and her face will only be seen. She will take off the blurred veil, and there will be no melancholy when the moon is missing. She will slowly let the warmth in her hands Handed tightly to cold hands.
On the riverside, bonfires are everywhere; on the river, fireworks are gorgeous; in the bright moon, the dance steps are still turning, and while turning, time stops, still at this moment, in the bright moon of the river.