Cold and sad. The pavilion was late and the shower began to rest.
All the accounts are not in the mood. I miss places and Lanzhou to urge me to send them.
Holding hands and looking at each other, tears swirled in my eyes until there were no words at last, and a thousand words stuck in my throat and I couldn't say it.
Thinking about thinking, thousands of miles of smoke, dusk, chutiankuo.
Love hurts and leaves since ancient times. What's more, it is a cold autumn festival.
Where did you wake up tonight? Yang Liuan and Xiaofeng are dying.
This is a long time, people who love each other are not together, and I even expect to be satisfied with the good weather and scenery in name only.
Customs are strange, who can you tell?
Liu Yong's recent love:
Leaning against the dangerous building, the wind is fine, looking forward to spring sorrow, and the sky is dark. In the afterglow of grass and smoke, no one can rely on the meaning of silence.
I plan to get drunk on the map of madness and sing songs for wine, which is strong and tasteless. I don't regret that my belt is getting wider and wider, which makes people haggard for Iraq.