Lyrics describing a poem that we met by chance.

Personally, I think the word "Teacher Liu Huan" is well written and fits the plot. I admire it. The following is my personal understanding and personal opinion on this word. Don't shoot me. .

The first paragraph is about Zhen Xuan and Emperor Shiro: the past is as vague as a dream, as romantic as spring flowers and autumn moon, but this feeling is as vague and unreal as watching the moon in the water in the fog; When Shiro came into my life, he was so beautiful. However, when he left, he was silent. Everything is under your control. Although they are attracted to each other and are sincere to you, I thought I got love, but I found I lost it. This passage is about Zhen Xuan's feelings for Shiro. She thinks this kind of feelings is beautiful and sympathetic, but it is not true. She thought she had it, but she lost it when she was a girl.

In the second paragraph, it is said that Guo Jun Wang is a talented and intimate friend. There was a prime minister who thought about love songs and only hoped to be with Acacia, but failed to realize that only Sauvignon Blanc would last forever. Even if they stay together for a lifetime, they can't get rid of their fate, leaving only his "hate" and her "bullying".

You don't get what you want, you never get what you want, and fate is so helpless. At the beginning of the feelings, the original commitment, and finally gone with chaos. As Zhen Xuan finally told the emperor, in this country, male and female servants always want what they want.

My heart is so looking forward to the day when the moon and stars are scarce and the sun is shining like a spring breeze. I only hope that "the headwind is like a solution, and it is easy to be destroyed". The north wind has no pity and destroys plum blossoms with a snowstorm and roared away. Just as fate never pities me, it makes my love black and blue. Phoenix happily got married and flew away with beautiful wings, leaving no trace, just like my beautiful love at the beginning, but now there is no trace ... Listening to the drizzle of phoenix trees outside the window, the leaves rustled, as if memories swaying in the wind were staged in my mind over and over again. . .