The wind is caressing, and the love is lingering.

May the words be stellar and heart-wrenching.

The moon is cold, the stars are cold, bluestone, sitting alone.

Bitter wine, lonely lamp, under the tree, only shadow.

The cold rain is falling, and the river is rolling.

The pear blossoms are falling, and the roses are withering in a hurry.

The beautiful moment becomes a memory, and the past seconds turn into smoke.

In the past, the treasure in the palm of the hand, now the hand is gray.

The flowers fall, they still bloom, the moon is missing, and they are still round.

The grass is withered, the roots are green, the ghosts are gone, and the gods come.

Chapter 47 of "Smoke and Rain and Red Dust Collection" "Gift to Senior Brother Xiaokai" is in the middle of the hand, please wait for a while,

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