Cold and sad. The pavilion was late and the shower began to rest.

Hualin thanked Chunhong and hurried away, but the cold rain came early and the wind came late.

Once upon a time, there was a tall building, singing at night, dancing sleeves on it, and the shadow was amazing.

Listen to the string and break three thousand infatuations. Falling flowers, forgetting, once the wind rippled. If the flower is pitiful, it will fall on whose fingertips.

Finally, the string is broken, the flowers fall on the shoulders, and the trance is blurred.

The street is long, there are countless fireworks, the lights turn back, the pavilions are short, the world of mortals is rolling, and Zhu Xiao is sighing again.

Turning around, a wisp of Leng Xiang was far away, the snow was deep and the smile was shallow.

Proud:

The vast land is broken with a sword, and the prosperity is gone. Leaning against the clouds hides loneliness, even if others laugh at me.

The temperament of the secluded valley and the character of the bamboo by the lake are the style of the pen.

The rain outside the curtain is gurgling, and the spring is fading. Luo Can can't stand the cold. I don't know that I am a guest in my dream, and I am greedy all day.

Several sighs, generations of joys and sorrows, ridiculous, life is up to me.

A player enters a painting for life. We looked at the guests, smiling at the sadness and joy, heartless but affectionate.

Don't be idle, it's white and sad.

Ink into the painting, the text on the rice paper has been put aside for half, which is silent.

The mountains and rivers are picturesque, the horseshoes are frantic, and the uniforms are roaring and vicissitudes.