The north wind is getting stronger.
Twilight is getting earlier and earlier.
I heard that a cold wave is coming.
A world in a hurry.
More emaciated.
Compared to the silence outside.
The roof of the roof. But it's presenting a different kind of scenery.
In the alternation of warm light and cold.
Almost Chunhua. 
New green, pale pink, light yellow.
Or crimson and dark purple.
Competing for brilliant colors.
Those memories of the long spring days.
Once again, it became clear.
Thick crowded.
Or heaps of grease jade.
can't hide the plump and fat.
The bleak light of those experiences.
Suddenly, there was something empty.
Quiet or lively.
Single-branched or group-grown.
Each is vibrant.
The power of those lives that grow unchecked.
It is like waves of the sea.
Rebirth or decay.
Cheerful and bleak.
It's still going on and on.
Those memories that belong to the four o'clock.
It's been going on and on.
A touch of scenery.
Familiar and unfamiliar.
Quietly changing.
Carrying the memories of the season.
Spread in winter.
A pot of light.
In a different way.
Swaying in the cold.
It's like looking forward to winter going to spring and coming back.
Wait for the fresh snow to melt.
It's a small world.
Changing with the four seasons.
In the cold and wind.
A few new colors. It's spring again.
A winter landscape for a while.
But it is overflowing.
Let him be cold and clear.
Shine brightly.
There is already a mountain shadow Langrun's expectations.
Picture: Ruo Su Text: The west wind is slightly drunk.
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