The mountains are faintly exposed, and the clear breeze is stirring with autumn. In my dream, the military has a great prestige, and my hometown, the green mountains, was once a dream. Sitting alone in the difficult medical pavilion, surrounded by twisted flowers on the slopes. Carrying the scenery and clouds low, time is tight, and the rain and wind pass by the autumn breeze.
The faint peaks of Yunfu Mountain, the swordsman playing the qin string. Observing the spiritual energy alone, the waves in the sky are leisurely. At dusk on the shore of the moon, a purple star appears, and the Milky Way is vast and fertile.
As soon as the faint mountains awaken, there is a sword hidden in the clouds and a enlightenment field. The strings of the qin plucked the sword out of its sheath, and the quiet girl had a fragrant afternoon tea to chat with.
Returning from the autumn to the three or six dynasties, Duan Yunxing was exceptionally polite.
The faint mountains still advance, writing with brush and ink, wielding frost. The sunset and rosy clouds wait for the rain to stop, and a poetic tone flows along the stream.
