It was a long time ago that I met her, but since we separated, the time has become longer, the east wind is blowing, and a hundred flowers are blooming. Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night. In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song. There are not many roads to Pengshan. Oh, Bluebird, listen! -Give me what she said! .
Untitled wind and rain embellish peaches and plums, black and white painting spring and autumn. Who knows that the snow, the sun and the moon on the temple gradually disappeared.