Holding hands and staring at tears, I was speechless and choked up.

Yang Liuan, the wind is going to stop.

I don't know where Xiaoxiang is.

I miss it, it's thousands of miles away, it's dusk, and it's family that hurts me since ancient times, even more than the cold and autumn festival.

It's hard to describe elegance with a picture ~ no flower can compare with beauty ~

A talented scholar and poet naturally wears white clothes.

Since ancient times, it has been more painful to leave than to neglect the clear autumn festival. Where can the wine wake you up tonight, Yang Liuan? Where is the breeze fading? After the New Year, it should be a good time to exist in name only, so who will you tell?

Facing the rain from the sky, a piece of washed autumn scenery on the river is particularly cold. The bleak frost wind is tight, the river surface of the mountains and rivers is deserted, and the setting sun shines on the tall buildings.

Red flowers wither everywhere, and all the beautiful scenery gradually disappears.

Only the gushing water of the Yangtze river flows eastward without sound.

Looking at each other in the dark, the sunset stands in the broken rainbow sound.

Even if it's full of amorous feelings, who are you talking to?