Osmanthus and osmanthus sugar.
Ancient locust tree. The autumn wind brings the fragrance of osmanthus.
Osmanthus candy has the mellow flavor of childhood.
Decades have passed.
It still haunts my childhood.
and the warmth that my parents gave me.
Live here.
Hometown, since I was born here.
Leave, unable to love.
The place now.
has become unrecognizable.
Remembering my hometown. Its metamorphosis.
It gave me a sense of imagery in a foreign land.
Moonlight, in the sound of water.
Surging and lingering.
It's a wisp of hometown soul.
It's cold again. The warmth descends, and the cold rises.
The shadows are no longer floating in the dusk of the moon.
The gloomy soul of the country.
It's been five years.
Like last night, Qiu Se shivered.
Past childhood.
A string of footprints. and the expectant gaze of the mother.
A flash of lightning is gone.
Think of a wisp of evening cooking behind the straw stack.
Hide a secret.
The past is constantly being forgotten.
The vision of the present.
Deliberately left.
It's no longer my mood.
Quiet night. Watching the fire from the other side, it seems like the lights of thousands of homes.
The Qingjiang River that does not shine brightly.
Villages and cities have fallen silent.
Tired of the false friendship of these long years.
Only I never get tired of looking at Qinghe.
A bell rang in the distance from time to time.
The god of water is awakened.
A soul is sent away.
Time tunnel.
The cycle of life and death is just a process.
It's a feeling to see the sky.
The edge of thought.
The man confided in himself on the edge of the sky.
Liqiu Song. Autumn, a tailwind, a flattening.
The river of a flat river.
The vicissitudes and decay have been revealed.
Secluded paths. Autumn breeze.
The sound of falling leaves.
Included in the hurried footsteps.
To whom I want to tell the story of autumn.
Just the right wavelength.
Walk through the blue sky and white clouds.
on the face of the sky.
The reflection of a fugitive swayed.
Sadness and loneliness.
They are always in a kind of reciprocity.
It is said that the end of the world is close to the end of the world and the lovesickness that is thousands of miles away.
Someone asked about the worries.
Don't dare to tell the secret.
Don't dare to say lovesickness.
A promise. It is not against the world to risk the greatness of the world.
It seems to be the thing called Lü Buwei.
Plant a promise in your heart for your friends.
Accept a tragedy.
This story has long since turned into clouds and hands into rain.
A promise is worth a few dollars.
One step away. Life and death, heaven and hell.
The pathos soaked in it sprouted in the bottom of my heart.
Sink into the heart. There is also a determination to go alone.