Beauty is far away, lovesickness is bitter, and it is hard to pay. Ten years of love and a hundred years of crossing, don't cut acacia, can't bear to care!

Drinking wine alone and offering empty sacrifices reveal a lovesick person in the painting. Listen to the running water of Wangjiang railing, who will accompany me to count the fallen flowers?

Have I ever seen you on a dead end, by the forgotten river, beside Sanshengshi and Naihe Bridge?

Colorful and flashy, but love has to be like this.

Butterflies can't fly in an instant, but the beauty in dreams has changed.

How can I hide it? This is a whim of fate.

Holding the old, imprisoning time and space, the moment is the end of time.

Nobody's here. I'm playing with my tears.

The fog cleared and I woke up. I finally saw the truth. This is the silence that Qian Fan spent.

Fireworks are easy to be cold, people are easy to be separated, and you can't wait for me to ask.

Maybe it's the marriage in the last life, maybe it's the fault in the next life. Meeting in this life will only increase fruitless resentment.

One person is afraid of loneliness, and two people are afraid of failure.

A flower and a world, a leaf and a pursuit. A song and a sigh, a person's life.

A kind of forbearance is actually a kind of strength, and a kind of silence is actually a shocking confession.

The fate of gathering and parting is like water, just for a word, waiting for the next encounter.

I thought you were oxygen, but it was just a farce.

Just because I think, when I look back on you, I miss your dynasty and dusk.

This paper is a bit old and fuzzy. But every sketch, every trace, seems to record the yearning that spans thousands of years.