Xi Murong's Lost. The wind blows through the clouds, the shadows fade, and the sunset leans on the mountains. It's getting dark and a flower is tired. In spring, all the birds are gone. When I got up in the morning, my long braids were loose, my feet were tired and my eyes were black. Both of them are tired, complaining that the end of the road is gone, the footsteps are scattered, faded, and. The season has changed. Who's tired, who's resentful, who's gone, who's messed up? Whose promise doesn't count, whose love has changed, the earth hasn't turned, the protagonist has changed, sweet words are used to being separated, memories are faded, and the stars are dim. I'm tired of listening to it, and I began to complain that I found you missing, and suddenly I was confused.
It should be this song.