Xicheng Xiaolou is drunk and cold in autumn, dreams of returning to the two dogs of the king of Shenzong, the breeze blows down and the court is full of sorrow, but the lonely feather is proud of friends This is a story about a cultivator, the poet cried, and sang praises blindly. A deep friendship is unforgettable, a green red dust is lamentable, a cold loneliness pierces, and a cruel world will live forever. The world is ignorant, and the gods and ghosts are gone. I'm forever waiting for the moment when he returns. The next ...... In a thousand autumns, the moonlight, the wind, the cold rain hit the hem of the flying clothes, the spark burned with a faint light, reflected in the bright black pupils, no need to speak, I know, that's him, coming. This is my word, and it has never changed since I met him.