Wang Wei is a friend of mica barrier (fifteen years old). Your mica barrier sometimes drives to the wild court. I have my own mountain spring, not because of painting.
Wang Wei wrote two poems about the white stone in the west of Beijing. It was cold and the red leaves were sparse. There is no rain on the winding mountain road, the smoke is misty in the dense pine trees, and the water vapor is heavy, as if to flow, and then the clothes of passers-by.
Tang Wang Wei's pavilion in the middle of the lake
Wang Wei and Cui Jiu's younger brother want to go to Nanshan immediately, and they will meet again in a few days under the slogan of "breaking up with another corner of the city". There are osmanthus flowers in the mountains, so don't wait for flowers like graupel.