1, Xi Murong's "Youth without Complaints"
When I was young,
If you love someone, please, please be gentle with him.
No matter how long or short you have been in love, if you can always be gentle with each other, then all the moments will be flawless and beautiful.
If you have to part, say goodbye and thank him for giving you a memory.
When you grow up, you will know that when you look back suddenly, there will be no regrets in youth without resentment, such as the quiet full moon on the mountain.
2. Xi Murong's "Old Acacia"
In ancient times, there was the same story. The woman who plays the piano is also sixteen, or am I the woman who has played for thousands of years?
That gentle and humble soul is the one who lingers and cries when the flowers bloom. That same person, don't laugh at my weakness even if I cry. How many dynasties have women sung the same song? How many times have I left under the magnolia tree, and how many beautiful voices have sung ancient acacia songs on this warm spring night?
3. Xi Murong's "Encounter"
You draw sadness in the corner of your eyes, and I will wipe vagrancy on my forehead. You add a few strands of white hair with your thoughts, and I let the years carve my gaunt hands. Then we passed each other on the street corner, and no longer met coldly. Oh, dear friends, please don't blame that young man for changing his appearance. We are makeup artists ourselves.
4. Xi Murong's Looking Back
I have been looking forward to a beautiful love, so I will give you up without hesitation. I have been looking for it on the road of wandering, but I didn't expect to turn back. Young you never have a little bit of separation, you never have a little bit of separation in my heart, and you sing repeatedly when spring comes.
The scorching grey sand day in binjiang road, the moonlight in front of Lishui Street, who picked the jasmine in the garden in the morning, and the skirt fluttering in the wind at the ferry head. Flying in the wind and then falling one by one, the years buried deep in the soil turned amber, and I looked back disappointedly before the gray dawn. Dear friends, does a bird have to set itself on fire to become a phoenix? Does youth have to be ignorant? Does love have to be sad?