"Qing Chunze, How Much Affection" Affection Lasts. The smoke locks the tall building, and the bird wants to fly. There is nothing to do in the world, frost mark poems.

A wisp of soft intestines, plucked strings to make a palace tune. Tea and laughter. The curtain rolls the dream man, the former appearance. The past is not searching, but it is vaguely silent.

Even if it is the east wind, don't be affectionate to the spring dawn.

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