In the distance, the rain lane reappears.
In those years, those things, love at first sight, love, goodbye, Qingcheng. Always haunting my eyes and refusing to leave.
Those loneliness and happiness are slowly spread out on the petals of time. . .
Those passing clouds are still beautiful inside, so there is no substitute.
In those lonely times, flower of life was in full bloom at her fingertips.
Who wanders in whose youth? Who just leaves a little pain of missing?
Who surprised whose time? Who is gentle with whose years?
Those passing clouds are still beautiful inside, so there is no substitute.
The journey of life, every fragment, has time to record quietly.
There is always meeting, there is no escape, there is always missing, there is always flooding, there is always melancholy, and mountains and rivers are piled up one by one.
If possible, please leave me during that time.
Humble life, silently cherish that elegant moment.
Without you, where can I find these stable years?
At that moment, it had nothing to do with romance, but it warmed the world.
Lonely time, fingertips are full of joy.
Cross-strait years, sleeping on the feathers of time.
Inadvertently, those years will always come to mind.
Some people, some things, may only pass through in memory, only meet in the eye.
There is always a little magic that makes the silent night fragrant.
Who have you met? Who did you leave? Who did you meet again? Who did you invite?
Only those who miss know, close their hearts.
Grab a touch, sit for a long time, and inadvertently miss those smiles, warmth and sincerity.
It was the moment when flowers were gentle to the breeze, and it was the gentleness of flowers to the whole world …
Qingyuan's heart, reunited after a long separation every day, still lingers in the years.
An irreplaceable beauty, even a wordless ending, still shocked the whole world.
Time flies, my face has gradually become mottled, and a little joy may only be slowly recalled in the dull.
Those ideas have been sealed for a long time. Flowers with petals and hearts withered in the wind.
Walking through the smoke, carefully collecting fragmentary scenery. Pen and ink irrigation, the pastoral of the years.
A simple wish, can you meet the smile of the old year in your lifetime?
Time has nothing to do with sadness and joy, but it has a distant mood. Thousands of years have passed, and how many years has a wisp of smoke eroded?
Flying snow dances in the night, still waiting at the window, and that night returns to people in the years.
Pieces of flying feathers, lonely years, but also amazing time
Counting the stars of the years, the footsteps in the distance are deep and the moonlight is hazy.
Strive to keep some beautiful rivers that have stood for many years, and salvage the sincerity of not getting old.
Finally, I gradually lost myself in the deepest part of the world of mortals and fought for crossing and crossing. ......
Where have all those sincerity gone in the years?
A little starlight illuminates the boundless darkness, and I can't help falling deeply into it.
In the castle of dreams, the pursuit is like running water, and in the fog, I go deep.
The box of time, how many hearts have been collected. The cold feeling spread in the clear air.
You used to make me sit in front of the court in a prosperous time.
Prune the memories of past lives and Qingyuan every day, and meet again after a long separation every day.
Qian Shan dusk, I call you with my life, if you understand, please reach out and follow me.
Butterflies may not fly across the sea after all, but can only depict the beauty of the years in the cycle of season after season and fall into an unforgettable fleeting time.
Perhaps, messy dance steps are the last swan song of life.
Waiting is the glory of the years, the beauty of the heart, and the gentleness of the years.
What does it matter even if the outcome of waiting is despair and silence? It's rare to be so willing.
Life is getting old, waiting for the flying feathers of sleeping time.
All this has nothing to do with sadness, happiness, romance and the world. Perhaps this is just a life delivery.
I can't escape the feelings overflowing in the years, feeling the tenderness of the whole city and the charm of my fingertips.
The life of love fascinates the four seasons.
The past attachment has long been anchored in the depths of the soul, and the years have precipitated the most beautiful smile in my heart.
Through the beauty of the rings, everything will eventually drift away, will eventually go through vicissitudes, and will eventually end in a warm and silent time.
At the end of waiting, is it still the love of the whole city?