Ah Lang slowly raised his right hand, and his index finger wrote arbitrarily in the night sky with the light exhalation of the subtle colorful electricity......

There is always a flower, lingering fragrance at the intersection of years, quiet and natural; There is always a flower that blooms on the sentimental heart, and the fragrant fragrance disperses the clouds of sorrow; There is always a flower that blooms and withers, blooms again after thanksgiving, and blooms the most beautiful posture of life in continuous reincarnation.

I always thought that I was in the red dust, but my heart was outside the red dust. Outside the red dust of the heart, the wind and smoke are quiet, and the mountains and rivers are beautiful. Building a small house and planting a peach blossom is my world. If the years allow me to look forward to it, what kind of attitude should I take to talk about a love that is old and wasted. Is it good to listen to the melodious sound of a flute with you in the willow breeze? In the smoke and rain, I play a song lightly, and you dance and dance? In the depths of the peach blossoms, listen to the murmuring of the stream, and wear peach blossoms on your head? Folded a wicker branch and weave a cool straw hat for you? I rely on you with my honey expression, and draw all my affection into your eyebrows? If the love flower blooms, my deep affection is a little deeper.

Being in the red dust, relying on time, I quietly guard a quiet and far-reaching lovesickness, a touching feeling. Plant a plain flower in your heart, and decorate your mood with a flowering attitude. Holding a plain pen, accompanied by the faint fragrance of the heart flower, write your favorite words shallowly. Looking for the habitat of the soul in the words, in the hustle and bustle of the red dust, fortunately, there is a natural resonance between the words and the heart, so that the impetuous heart can be quiet in the red dust.

A person in the deep and shallow days, listening to the wind and rain in the world, watching the flowers bloom on the willow shore, so that the layers of thoughts are full of flowers in this season. I still wander alone with my sorrows, I always know that the flowers can bloom, but always with a cautious heart, I am afraid of missing the flowering period, and the flowers will fall. So, standing at both ends of the season, quietly watching the old years rush by.

This dream-like life, filter away the dust on the heart, fade the impetuous coat, I just want to keep the flowering period, with a tenderness, rubbed into the tender heart of the years. Even if the flowers are gone, just wipe the corners of your eyes with a faint sadness, and wait for reincarnation, the flowers can still bloom!

Spring Yujing, a few wisps of spring breeze, a little warmth, a curtain of spring rain, a heart, a pot of turbid wine, a flower event, the past is like smoke, tenderness is like rain, the days that have passed, the flowers have bloomed and fallen, red for many years, there are always, tender green, light red, light pink!

There are always some moving pictures blooming in the depths of memory, hazy rain, a paper umbrella, a light smile, a red makeup, a soft word, a few greetings, a few attention, freeze the frame into the most beautiful picture. Through the rain curtain, through the rainy season, together, look at the peach and willow green, see the green mountains and green water, taste the purple and red, taste the rippling blue waves, compose music with laughter, compose lyrics with laughter, make a song of spring flowers, a few spring colors, twist a few wisps of spring rhyme, mix a few drops of spring rain, and make a warm painting into the tip of the heart!

There are always some memories that are open and warm, faint greetings, faint smiles, indifferent words, a little silence between the eyebrows, a little helplessness in the smile, a little concern in the eyes, the fragrance of spring into the heart and spleen, the thoughts into a trace of lovesickness and rain, and there are always a few faint sorrows in the depths of the years!

Looking at you from afar, year after year, spring after spring, the heart folds into a paper pigeon, a lovesickness, a little care, the southern red bean season, the flowers fall into mud.

The spring of the wings, the time of gathering is always very short, the time of separation is always very long, the thoughts are scattered in the days of anticipation, but the thoughts are not out of tune, under the dim lamp, the slender shadow is pulled thinner and longer, and the eyes are wet on a moonlit night in the spring river!

There are always some memories that grow warm, pink peach blossoms, drunken red roses, golden maple leaves, you are obsessed with pink, like pure white, happy and open after the rain, laughter breeds warmth all the way, in the orange dusk floating warmth, although a little sad, but flowing with warmth!

Time slipped through my fingers, but the past thoughts disappeared in the cracks of time, the bits and pieces of the past were blurred and clear, clear and vague, but the obsession took root in the spring, not looking forward to flowering, not looking at the fruit, just want to grow into a tree, evergreen heart!

Those obsessions grow into lonely backs, geese fly south and return to the north, return north and fly south, chirping, through the clouds through the rainy season, falling into your arms, thoughts will open into flowers, thoughts will turn into rain, warm the past, will also warm the future!

Standing on the hill, overlooking the mountain that side, always want to cross the mountain to find the footprints of the past, even if it is scarred, there is no regret, but can not climb over the heart wall, can only, can only look at it from afar, send a few concerned posts and a few attention, sighing, lonely lamp thin shadow, rain over the flowers, people are thinner and the night is longer!

The years are a sharp blade, but they can't get rid of the faint pain, time can't get rid of the faint sentimentality, but the thoughts are integrated into the blood, season after season, a little more sour and a little more family affection, the branches and leaves are born, and the days are a little more indifferent!

Guarding that obsession, looking down on the sunrise and sunset, silently watching the flowers bloom and fall, the spring breeze is blowing, the affection is lingering, and the dusk in the long flute is a little sad, but there is always a little warmth

Warm!

The handwriting in the night sky, flashing with colorful light, adds a beautiful and colorful scenery to the night sky, and under the staggered reflection of the moonlight and stars, the void is more colorful and brilliant.

Qianyu quietly looked at the handwriting written by Ah Lang in the night sky, and read it silently in her heart......

Many times, we hold up the strength of the years alone, with a confident and proud attitude, and compete with the fixed number, and balance with the unknown. No matter what kind of tribulations fate has given him, he still retains a simple original innocence and a gentle nostalgia for the people and things of the past. I want to go back to the old time, go back to the distant spring, and meet you again. At the place where we meet in the old years, the sun is taking root, and under the shade of a tree in full bloom, you can hear a most beautiful conversation.

Every figure is like you, but it is not you, not as good as you, and it cannot replace you. Don't ask, how much the appearance has changed, don't ask, whether the feelings are old, we all have to respect each other in love, independent personality and firm choices. We all have the ability to take the consequences of our choices. Some possession is because they are accustomed to existence, and if they are accidentally lost one day, they will slowly get used to not having it.

Spring blooms in the heart, gorgeous flowers, after blooming to the extreme, a miss, scattered in the soft wind, a kind of vow, with the flowers and dust. The seasons go by endlessly, and the love in my heart is endless. When gathering and dispersing are taken for granted, a heart will eventually become cold inch by inch. The experience of separation and integration, I don't care so much, and the smile can also be light and quiet. Walking on the road, the corners of the clothes are windy, and in the mirror, it is still the same, elegant and delicate self.

**, the heart condenses into a drop of flower dew, and the scattering of stars and moon foam is a frost-white mountain. The dew wet the eyebrows and eyes of the longing, blurring the face that had been seen for the first time. When the thoughts are cool, they turn them out and bake them on the back of the paper, and use a pen stained with tears to sketch the outline of a person's floating in his mind. The moonlight is white on the page, the light and shadow are colorful and cold, like a sharp gaze, penetrating time and space, reaching the window of the heart.

How can the oath of the world protect the tears of a lifetime. The flowing water catches the shadow of the falling heart, and any drift can bear it. Man is like that, an extremely adaptable animal, but not ruthless. People who don't know how to refuse seriously have a haggard face in the wind and dust, tears swirling in their eyes, and they didn't fall in the end. Since then, I have learned to forbear, I have learned to be brave, and I have learned to hug myself and fall asleep in the dark.

On a windless night, the moonlight still hangs without appointment. Boil half a pot of story wine, hang the stars of memory in the sky one by one, and place them as you like a game of chess pieces. Then, looking blankly, his expression was neither sad nor joyful, like a kind of silent memorial. Waiting for the heart to be slightly drunk, waiting for the moonlight to recede, waiting for the stream to hold up the brightness of thoughts. The past has become a wisp of wind that I miss, and I spin around with a route that I know or don't know, and then, I drift away in amazement.

In the vicissitudes of the streets, even if there is no one to worship together, if it hurts, you will cry happily, and if you cry enough, you will wipe your tears, turn around, and find your original self. Don't make noise, have your own voice, may you live like yourself from now on! Be confident, natural, don't envy the brilliance of others, don't covet what others have, don't have to compromise, don't have to be wronged, be good enough for yourself!

The wind and moon are gone, the memory flowers are cold, the starlight falls all over the ground, and the laughter is in the wind. At the crossroads of the old years, with a grateful heart, occasionally stopping to look back, and having a moving tear, it is also reasonable. Memory, across the snowy sideburns, later, still blooming in spring. The past blooms in the smile of a flower, like a young person.

In the back of talking and laughing, there is a faint sadness. Hiding from the past with his heart, and the memories are so entangled that he can't be appeased. Whose love letter became an out-of-print will, one person, made another person's relics. Maybe it's worth a lot of money, maybe it's worthless, it's all about the end of the story, whether it's joy or sorrow, resentment, or gratitude. However, how much nostalgia, after turning around, it is nothing more than that: two flowers bloom, and the sky is on one side!

The smile is powerless to change the direction of the wind, blowing away the lingering of the old year. In the long river of life, there will eventually be a diversion halfway, some encounters, and many clutches. Some people who have been separated for many years have turned around and finally met again. The reunion may be a trick of providence, or maybe it is another old scar. You have to, endure the pain, and be able to afford such a big joke of fate. The hearts that are scattered with fate, why should they care too much about those who look at them coldly and snoop on them with ulterior motives.

The long road of life, no matter how many years, every secret promise, remember. If you forget the past with someone you care about, don't get it back. For the rest of your life, not losing faith in yourself is the best destiny. Encounters turn into stories of wind and dust, and how much love is offered to settle a heart properly. There is such a person, who knows how to be compassionate, speaks just right, and speaks to his heart, not slow or urgent, warm and considerate. This is the simple happiness you want.

Suddenly, a huge palm came behind Ah Lang and Qianyu from the distant sky, and silently covered Ah Lang's body......

Ah Lang was still holding Qianyu, but his eyes were slightly behind him, and then a colorful TV cover silently shrouded him and Qianyu......

The huge palm in the night sky, the electric light and stone fire have touched the colorful electric cover, the two did not shake the earth, resounding through the night sky sonic boom, but there is no sound, the huge palm seems to melt in the colorful electric cover, silently disappeared, the colorful electric cover immediately turned into a wisp of electricity, towards the distant sky......

At this moment, a terrible howl sounded faintly in the distance in the night sky, which was immediately obscured by the violent sound of thunder and lightning, and after a while, the night sky was completely beautiful, as if nothing had happened......

Ah Lang and Qian Yu looked at each other and smiled, no one spoke, Qian Yu buried his whole body in Ah Lang's body, hugged his waist tightly, Ah Lang also hugged Qian Yu tightly, gently rubbing her back......

There is a period of past, painted as precipitation. Let the flowers of life fall, and look for a flower that understands. The season of smelling the fragrance of flowers for a long time just passed by, and the spread of the breath is not far or close, as if it is next door, and the traces of passing by are still clearly visible. It's just a season of flowers, and the fragrant flowers fall into the red dust. The sky of tears, floating with the laughter of the world, I know the years that have passed, how many beautiful pasts have flowed, the poignancy of the flowers blooming in the dream, who wants to stop and stay, the red dust dreams, drunk for thousands of years, when all the prosperity is gone, life returns to the original indifference, will you still remember, those who have accompanied you. Over the years, there are always some imitators who have entered our world and left deep traces. When we once thought that we had experienced it together, we were the ones in our lives who could stay until the end. However, time is still the same, and the figure that has gone far away can no longer find the traces of the original clouds and smoke.

Scattered time, with a little bit of youth, passing by the dusk through the autumn wind and falling leaves. All the way into the cold window of the pity, write down the time of the Left Bank. Leave the reflection of the years, the footprints of youth. But it is deeply imprinted on the road of the passing years, and the traces along the way are so fresh. But it's so painful that I can't forget all the treasures of the collection. But the fate that has been arranged for a long time, at the intersection of time, we are so strange. The bits and pieces of the past no longer belong to this quiet past, and the memory walks in time. Sharing a moment of glitz, I forgot how it ended like this. Only then will it be buried here, and the deep years will never be mentioned. Time repeats that scene for a better passing year. The cherished past is always unforgettable.

There was a time when it was scattered in the memory, and the memory carried that eternity. The farther and farther I go, the familiarity forgets how strange it is. Strange but forgotten, how familiar. The end of a journey is often not what we want it to be. There's always a stretch of road, a suitable place. At a chance intersection, there are always some people. As I walked, I walked into my heart. There is such a group of people who say that they want to go to dusk and sunset. Walking and walking, people disappear, and the whole world can't find them. One day, time will tell you that it is called drifting away. All passing by or preparation, to pass by is just a time. It will gradually dissipate in the years.

There is a period of separation, walking alone in the boundless world. Looking at it, I glanced at the passing years of 10,000 years, and admired the vicissitudes of the sea I walked through alone, but I always had the end of the mulberry field. I didn't notice you, maybe you didn't want to show up. There is my sky, my sea from beginning to end. are all for you, for you, for you, and obsessive, I can't count how many years. From the years I have been obsessed with you, maybe I forgot. Maybe it's the passing of the years, God is destined for me to be persistent for you. The persistence of the four seasons has not been repeated. Then he left in despair, and finally drew the end of the end

There is a period of forgetting, most of which is related to the past. We have walked the path that others have not walked. has experienced a time that others have never thought of, and most of the injuries are the same as before. That eternal picture, passing by, may have too many words. In this time confesses, the forgotten love of those who go away. It's all the scenery that we have passed by, rubbing shoulders with each other. I want to thank you for what you used to be, and you made me understand something. It's called fate, and the time to stick to it is still the same. It's so long, it seems that it took a few years to get acquainted. We walked peacefully and watched the time, passing by in our years. I am so pale and helpless, counting the years I have been obsessed with you. I found that I was covered in wounds, and it seemed that there was no cure

There is a sadness that is destined to become a song in life. All the way away from injuries and all the way to practice, the autumn leaves can only go with the wind. Passers-by who go far can only be silently blessed, maybe life is a choice. It is also a kind of regret, all the way along the traces of time. Finding this is called the end of the years, and we have only experienced it once. With so many entourages scattered over the years, time has finally told us. What is called the passing year, but the passing year tells us. What is called eternity, standing alone on the peak of the night. It was as if he was isolated from the world, with no sound and no noise. I was so desolate. So quiet, those silent years. Only tranquility. In this quiet night, stop in the void......

Ah Lang hugged Qianyu tightly, and shot towards the depths of the endless universal night sky, a colorful electric cover automatically shrouded the two in the middle, the violent wind in the night sky, kept hitting the colorful electric cover, as if to penetrate it, sweeping away and devouring all the two people inside, the colorful electric cover was as immobile as a mountain, there was no trace of abnormality on the surface, and the sound was isolated, Ah Lang and Qianyu looked at the bright scene in the universe at close range, and the two gradually fell into it, forgetting everything......