1. The pastoral poet, Xia Kui, loves the faint warm sun and forgets Sichuan. That summer, I wanted to be calm, dead leaves and butterflies, love from all directions, romantic wine, no smoking, fireworks falling, continuing the past, across mountains and seas, acacia still, your name in my heart, white love letters, waking up in the green window, unclear. Cinnabar tears, intoxicating wine lanes, clouds coming to the road, naive and mature, holding umbrellas and blue sleeves, falling all over the country, beautiful and charming, the smell of coffee, preferring no love, dreaming of leaving the city, as thin as a knife, a few makeup marks, hunters, bustling, why not be afraid of feelings, so that's it, there are fish in the north, black flowing skirts, taking me.