A cut of plum * floating like a dream

Timidly reclining against the rhombus. The leaves fall on the empty steps, and the geese are high in the sky.

Partial autumn color damage mountain eyebrows. The hedge yard is fragrant, and the clouds are turned by the wind.

Think about how sour it is. Run the way, live up to the year.

Shaohua was overwhelmed. Full of sideburns frost, two sleeves of wind smoke.