PS; It's still a short article, a short article, a short article....

See you in March, new vests, new creations!

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Foreword: The journey of life, embarking on the starting point, must follow the set goal, through thick and thin. Even if the road is long, the mountains and rivers are heavy, the rain and snow are combined, and the ups and downs are muddy, we must not stop, let alone retreat. Because of the road of life, there is no return ticket, only step by step forward, will the peak and the road turn, willow bank flowers. Stopping means giving up and persevering in order to succeed. Life tells us that as long as we face all hardships with a smile and maintain the mentality of "a cloud of smoke and rain for life", we will definitely usher in the scenery of rainy and sunny days and colorful clouds.

The journey of life, from spring sowing to autumn harvest, everyone is like a seed, if you want to take root and sprout, you must have the land to settle down, and this land needs to be cultivated by yourself, and you need to make hard efforts and sprinkle hard sweat. Only in this way can we live up to the silent good rain, bloom the beauty of youth in the spring season, and harvest abundant fruits in the autumn of life. Otherwise, you can only watch others return empty-handed, and regret it. "If the young and strong don't work hard, the boss will be sad", without hard work, how to talk about spring and autumn.

Text: With a handful of simple words, embellished time, those fine pieces, in the precipitation of the years, there are more and more dark fragrances full of seasonal cups, again, in the moonlight, in the silence of the dark night, open the soul, listen carefully, the sound of the wind passing by...... - inscription

Spring flowers and autumn moons linger dreams, clouds and water are light and sad phoenixes cry, and the warmth that can't be held condenses into the desolate grievances of the years. Jun is at the end of the world, I am at the cape, Jun is on the other side, I am on this shore, I have missed the time and the beautiful scenery. In the next life, I would like to be the woman who blows the flute in the smoke and rain in the south of the Yangtze River, just for Bojun to look back once, and I am willing to use the splendor of three thousand green silks to dance gracefully for you......

The vast red dust, how much weight has been lost to be released, sitting on a petal of residual incense, five fingers gently flicking down a quiet and indifferent rhythm, those forgotten in the time of the fragrant fragrance, thick splash wet delicate eyebrows, the wind is full of elegant fragrance. Across a river of smoke and rain, singing in the Tang wind and Song rain, the flowers on the other side are blooming, enchanting and charming, a thousand-year-old encounter, swaying in the Weiyang in September...... A touch of light incense dances along the fingertips into a song......

The green silk is flying, any soft lovesickness is forgotten in the eternal sky, and the style of infatuation and attachment lingers in the center of clouds and water. Gently combing the purple memory, the concern and longing, the burning and bitterness, and the drunken dance with flying water sleeves. Loneliness wafts with a shallow fragrance, clear the thoughts in the depths of the soul, and the veins of those bleached and cheerful times flow. Sit at the ferry of acquaintance and count every joyful light dance flying!

One sand and one world, one flower and one paradise...... Cook a glass of words like water, add a little green lotus elegance, taste the tidbits of the years, and be silent and peaceful! A journey of mountains and rivers, a journey of songs, and songs, and songs!

On the road of life, we take a roll of sorrow to the distant end of the world, calm the tranquility of the heart, stand in the season into a charming fragrant flower, walk through the red dust, warm and lingering. Leisurely pick up a Qingwan, from then on, the wind and drizzle, the birds and flowers......

Looking into the distance, the season is full of ripe fragrance in the curling autumn wind, and the afterglow of the sunset reflects the ethereal in the distance, condensing into a beautiful Danqing. Cut a cloud of clothes, weave a dream brocade, gently hold it in the crook of the arm, and a wisp of sunset is like a colorful feather coat rendering a fine light. Fold your thoughts into butterflies and banish them in the tranquil twilight. Gazing at the slanting sun, the heart is like water, light according to the years, not stained with dust. Plant a tree of peace and stand in an eternal posture!

A touch of light incense, will be slightly cool and warm into a warm sun, I promise you a lifetime of flowers, you promise me a warm time. On the turbulent day, the graceful tenderness is gently embraced into the arms, the notes flowing at the fingertips are elegant, the melody of a flood of water rings in the ears, and a gentle song sings among the stamens, and the elegant posture spreads through the delicate eyes, waiting for the sinking birds in a line of poetry! The flying flowers are colorful with warm colors, kissing your beauty!

Smile at the years, the beauty is still there! Autumn, shaking the pulse, silently wrapping Xiao Se with tenderness, beating soft and mature chapters. The breeze is delicate and the clouds are leisurely, salvaging a wisp of fragrant warmth, graceful and colorful in a paper rhyme. Put away the damp feelings, and between the waves of the hand, the tranquility of the soul is placed. Farewell to the clouds and water, the fireworks are cold, the flute is far away, and Zhu Yan is smiling......

The autumn breeze is cool, the drizzle is drizzling, and the leaves outside the window are falling one after another, and there is silence. Immersed in a group of nostalgic classic old songs, it seems to return to the old era, the joy and the sorrow, after years of precipitation, it is still as warm and delicate as jade, with the bubbling flow of music, so affectionately attack the Sahara in the soul......

An old song can always pick up the story that has been sealed in the bottom of my heart for a long time, touch the strings that have been stored for a long time, or beautiful or painful pictures, and play them completely in the window of memory. Like a breeze blowing down dewdrops, like a bright moon dotting the night sky, like a blue orchid filling the valley, like a breeze blowing through the branches. All the melancholy and sorrow, the sadness and pain, were slowly guided to the Lord, and they were deeply immersed in the beautiful tune and sank......

Night, cool as water. A full moon hung in the sky, and there was light in the vastness. The stars are shining brightly, and the moon is like silver. The wind, slightly drunk, kissed the skin coolly. A wisp of osmanthus fragrance overflowed the tip of the nose, and outside the window, the sycamore tree was still, but without the company of leaves. An orange lamp softens the coolness of the night, and the thoughts are like songs, melted into an ancient song, and sink deeply. The temperature of the palm, holding the warmth you give, walking alone in the desert oasis of the soul......

The darkness of the night stirs up the hidden passion, at midnight, enchanting with the beauty of loneliness, a petal of heart incense looks in the dark, and the obsession that overflows the heart flashes with the magnificence of dreams. With the moonlight salvaging the fragrance of the heart, your faint fragrance will permeate every corner, and the branches that are hanging at midnight will dance with joy. A wisp of lingering love quietly came with the dance steps of the wind, dancing in the moonlight of the alluring city, dancing with all kinds of affection, lightly opened lips, a light call, drunk eyebrows!

Stretch out your palm to catch the warmth you give, meet you in the most beautiful years, and a light fragrance intoxicates the dusty heart. An ink-like legend is staged in the smoke and rain, and the warmth flowing at the fingertips banishes the charming grace. The autumn breeze is fragrant, listen to a wind chant, let the amorous and romantic words fly and bewitch, a fingertip flower is brilliant with the softness of the Tang Dynasty and Song words, according to the warm small window, the moon is round and bent.

Always let the words enchant with soft feelings, dancing and flying in their own imaginary world, always like this warm text with the fragrance of poetry and painting, and a person looks intoxicated. Some people say I'm stupid, some people say I'm crazy, and some people say that the words I write are too strong. However, I like to let my words come alive in my own world......

After going through the wind and dust of the years, through the fetters of the world, the shoulders are dyed with the traces of time, the vicissitudes of life to understand the coldness of the years, and the temperature of the sunshine to perceive after experiencing the brightness. The years are like a song that stirs up dreams; The years are like the wind, relieved and indifferent; The years pass by like stars; The years are like the moon, vaguely mottled. Suddenly, looking back, the golden yellow of autumn swaying with the fragrance of maturity, those green and astringent air drying in the past in the depths of the season, interpreting the tranquility and gifts of the years in retrospect.

Tie, standing into a charming flower, watching back in the butterfly dance, will be a gentle inlay overflowing whispering in the green shade. Once the smoke and rain tossed and turned, cherish the red dust in the clear and shallow Qianmo, touch the color of the wind, paint the dream with happy colors hanging on the lips, and the warmth of the soul and dream depends on the ups and downs of the stars and moon. The plain heart is flowing for years, the bottom of the sleeve is idle, and the thin pen blooms, rendering the lonely elegance. You've been to my world, and no one has stopped since then......

The thin moon is cold, the light sorrow is condensed between the eyebrows, the plain paper is light and ink, and the thick acacia blooms at the bottom of the heart. A wisp of string sound and a sigh, looking forward to the flowing eyes, can not see the flowers on the other side like trees. Leaning on a flower, listening to the whispers in your ears, listening to a flute under the moon, carving a prosperous encounter! The wind passed through his fingers, stirring up a fragrant fragrance, and the words of love poured out a little. At the heart of the heart, one stroke and one finger and one vein, playing and singing in the wind......

The vast red dust, how much weight has been lost to be released, sitting on a petal of residual incense, five fingers gently flicking down a quiet and indifferent rhythm, those forgotten in the time of the fragrant fragrance, thick splash wet delicate eyebrows, the wind is full of elegant fragrance. Across a river of smoke and rain, singing in the Tang wind and Song rain, the flowers on the other side are blooming, enchanting and charming, a thousand-year-old encounter, swaying in the Weiyang in September...... A touch of light incense dances along the fingertips into a song......

The enchanting words, bit by bit, are rich in the murmur between the eyebrows and eyes, like the style of flowers, intoxicated by the dark fragrance of the wind around the fingers, the rain and the wind are thick, and the frolic is a song. If you can, you can get drunk and watch the red dust, and listen to the beauty of the purple and red in a flower!

Accompanied by words and dependent on mood. Sometimes it is gentle like a song, sometimes it is elegant like the wind, sometimes it is fresh like tea, sometimes it is quiet like water, sometimes it is like a tide, sometimes it is like a flower. Indifferently guard the ferry of time, listen to the flowers blooming, and listen to a song of Zheng in the red dust like water. Perched on the shoulders of words, the neon clothes that sweep a cloud, embroidered with the warmth of the city, smiling at the republican joy of Zifeng Qingluan, the west wind rises, the eyebrows cannot be scattered, and a piece of paper is full of fragrant fragrance......

I'll take you to see the moon climb up, get drunk on the moonlight, shake off the dust, take off the mask of camouflage, and wave the night in the coolness. Gently put on a cold green shirt for you, step on the emptiness of the sky, walk in the alley of dreams, and count the fallen leaves like butterflies in the curling of osmanthus flowers. The small footsteps flow with jade-like feelings, embrace the moonlight, listen to the sound of a flower blooming, and the thick tranquility fills the whole season, singing all the way to the heart......

The flowers are flying, the smoke and rain are thick and cold, the years are long, the clothes are thin, the breeze is thin and the water is flowing, the thoughts are boundless, the threads are lightly buttoned, the promises are shallow, the stay is short, and the clouds have been broken after a thousand sails. The cold moon shines sleeplessly, thoughts turn over, the end of the world is far away, and the jade bones are cold and green. The evening makeup is left, the lonely lamp is empty, who is looking forward to whom? A candle, shallow shake, shaking and lonely boundless, a song of mountains and flowing water with whom to linger? More leakage, crazy dreams, who looks at the bead curtain roll? The red face is messy and the eyebrows are shallow, and the eyebrows are hidden with sorrow!

The sound of the autumn rain is thick, as if hearing the ancient agreement of the previous life, the white dew will be cold into frost, and the cold pillow will not be able to hear the shallow singing of the past. The flower things of the past have landed as a city when the water turns into love. Qingdai's makeup is no longer the same as before, and the bamboo flute of the dream is lost in a drop of clarity, condensed into amber in time. A band of thirteen strings, there has long been no low eyebrows and shyness. Love rains, the breeze blows the sleeves, a song on the river, blows away the past years, and a butterfly dream travels to the end of the world......

The cool breeze, the night rain, the silver window to listen to the clear sound, the sleeves are full of silk. Silk thoughts, thousands of knots, who is dyed with wind and dust? The cold clothes are shallow, the cold is full of tenderness, the sound of the rain is long, and there are many grievances, and three thousand obsessions are broken. I can't find it, yesterday Qinghuan, Jun is on the other side, the flowers are like brocade, I am on this shore, missing the light year. I would like to be the flute woman on the Yanyu Bridge in the south of the Yangtze River, pulling the corners of the wind, embroidering the petals of flowers and rain petals for you, stepping lightly on the bluestone slab, and the high-rotation oil paper umbrella, looking at the rouge picturesque.

Tonight, the plum will drink together, and the warm breeze will be drunk in the West Building. Under the window, the piano is accompanied by sheng songs, and the moon sings the piano and the flute. Drunk Qiong Ming clear jade step pool, the wind is clear and fragrant. The cool moon is full of windows, and people can't sleep, and the heart lake is rippling. The moon is like silver, the night is like water, a song of joy makes people drunk, who are you happy with? Cut the case into eyebrows, a touch of warmth and shallowness, butterfly dancing Fangfei, gentle and charming, red dust dreams with you, drunk with you! Thousands of words, lingering every inch of the imprint of thoughts, gently and softly, around the eyebrows.

An encounter, a story, a moonlight, a mood, a kind of acquaintance, a lifetime of expectations. The moonlight is soft, flipping through the past. Thoughts are like butterflies, chanting and singing. Flowers bloom all the way, a piece of charm. A light of tea, a wisp of dark fragrance. A touch of feelings, a yearning. An attic, sifting through the thin coolness, flowers and hearts, printed with the fragrance of books, ripples in the heart, soft and fragrant. Pick a daisy, write a thought, thank Rong Hua for holding his hands to the end of the world, and listening to the picturesque smoke and rain!

The moonlight shines on the dredging tree, a few autumn insects whisper, the clear shadow stands, and the cool moon is full of windows with whom? The fingertips are warm, faint and silent, and it is difficult to find tens of thousands of weights in Guanshan. A river and a moon, the strings are quiet, and the heart sends a breeze. The earthly flying flowers are like a dream, the fragrant wisps are light with the wind, the leaves are like butterflies, the osmanthus is thick, and the fragrance is like silk into the dream. A person, a city, dancing alone in the wind and rain, stranded yesterday's sunshine, an instant of beauty, ink and incense......

On a cold night in the thin moon, we know each other with laughter, a touch of sorrow, and I stare at the center of my eyebrows. If my thin pen can bloom into flowers, I would like to be fragrant for you for a hundred years and embellish your loneliness. If a piece of paper can write all the lovesickness, I would like to let the words lie quietly next to your pillow and listen to your breathing. If my red sleeves can dance prosperously, I would like to dance the legend of three lives and three lives for you, and rely on you shallowly.

Postscript: When the enchanting words hit the heart again, those irrelevant winds and snows and the lingering veins and feelings flowing in the fingertips and the specific mood at a certain moment are like broken jade to gently knock the passing years, unconsciously incense the years, and burn a wisp of life......