The cold moon and cold wind knocked lightly on the door.
The window is mottled and hidden.
Even if there are three thousand wisps of thought.
The New Year has quietly arrived.
The moonlight in winter is exceptionally deserted.
The cold wind gently knocked on the doors and windows.
The delicate and lovely figure in the window.
Looming in the shadow of the lamp.
There are three thousand wisps of longing.
The past is gone with the wind.
The New Year's bell is quietly coming.
In this cold moonlight, a firewood door looks particularly mysterious under the cover of the bamboo forest.
The moonlight shines through the sparse bamboo leaves and sprinkles on the firewood door, and the mottled bamboo shadows hide the thousand-year-old green vines.
The people inside the door, the delicate figures loom in the moonlight, softly singing the melody of longing. In her heart, there are 3,000 wisps of longing, but none of them are as good as the old marks in her dreams.
The old traces are the dust of the past, the smoke and breeze of the years, just an obsession of the past.
In the dream, in the dawn of meeting the old traces, it is like passing through the gap of time and space, returning to the good old days.
Those who have irretrievable beauty, but are still grateful, grateful for those encounters and companions.
Life gradually understands that even if the current life is not so satisfactory, we must still move on firmly, because only by looking forward can we have a better future.
Thanksgiving to meet!Thanksgiving for the support!