Author: Zhang Xueyong
In a dream of the passing years, some people are obsessed with the years, and the love lingers beautifully. Red dust in May, half of the city of smoke and rain and half of the city wind, far mountains and eyebrows peony red.
The past is never forgotten, and the old people fade into their hearts. The people and things in the time, like a white horse, rushed through the original rain alley.
Time may be cold, the heart-warming poems still have sweet rhymes, life may be repeatedly disappointed, and there are still dark fragrances of encounters. In the depths of the red dust, there is always someone who makes you obsessed, and there is always a love that beautifies your past.
Some people meet, a glance for ten thousand years, and some people are moved, and it is difficult to recover. Love is the net of fate, fate is the catastrophe of love, once fate arrives, "it is difficult to escape in the catastrophe".
There is always a season of flowers blooming for you, and there is always someone to meet, waiting for you to come. The autumn breeze is speechless, and the green mountains are sorrowful.
Love is on the left, thoughts are on the right, and the horror is a night of lovesickness. The lovesickness in the world is deep in the bones, and the truth does not know the bitterness. The best affection is not poetry and distance, the most beautiful ending is to hold the hand of the son and grow old with the son. Not lost in red dust, not buried by the world.
Understand my joys and sorrows, know my sea, go through the prosperity with the years, and warm under the red dust lamp. A porridge and a meal are spent in the sun and the moon, and the time is spent overnight.
Turn a page of the past, you were in the past, and you were in the heart. A love, ten fingers, a love, light and unique.
Who took a boat to salvage the disappointed past? Who walks through the rain alley with an umbrella for the first time? Ten miles of lake light carries wine, three inches of time to watch. An obsession and a thought fall into my heart, and a smile and a smile cross the rocks.
There is always a person, who is gentle with your low eyebrows, and there is always a love, which is the path of your heart. The world is neither light nor salty, the red dust is not slow or slow, and the narration of life is: a person, warm the passing years, drunk in the world.
May you choose one person, the sun and the moon in the morning and twilight, and the dreams can be pursued at dusk. May you read one person, don't think about drinking tea and wine, and look at the moon every night.