Walking on the frost in the morning, strolling on the lonely ancient bluestone road. Sparse yellow leaves are riddled with holes, telling the story of the whole season. The situation of the Three Kingdoms has gone, and the ancient city wall is desolate. How many romantic figures have a river of no return. It's still the same sky, the same place, but there is no bonfire and no war. Jingzhou at this time is calm, more like an ink painting. The houses along the border are reflected in the blue lake, and the smooth pebbles sleep quietly on the shallow beach. The willows on both sides of the river are shyly hung with green buds. The distinct lines outline a leisurely water town.
"Living in a small building, ignoring the flowing clouds" followed the breeze and walked far along the bluestone. Birds in the forest are singing sad songs. Has it stopped in front of the hut? Where did the general take it? Now only this fallen leaf is left to decorate the lonely earth. The bluestone on the ancient road has slowly weathered in the annual rings, and the misty youth meets the frost and snow in winter. What kind of story will we write when we meet in the forest that winter? The grass in the corner curled up with yellow hair, looking at the cold winter, as if unwilling to drown in the wind and frost of the years. I walked through this forest before the wind started. The sky was silent and the earth was sleeping. I walked slowly in the depths of the forest alone. Who will I meet on the way to the finish line? Who will have a glorious time with whom, and then pass by and say "take care" gently.