Go touch him.
The evening breeze rose clear, and his wet black hair tied up with a silk ribbon was drenched in the scented plum flavor of the West Lake waterfront.
He was sprung by the breeze, and his gilt-colored sleeves carried his natural arrogance and uninhibitedness.
The light sword points to the east, the heavy sword turns into a rainbow. He is at large in the chaotic world, but never asked the world. He is not unattached, nor is he indifferent, he is not bound by the golden crown in this life, he is free and easy-going, he would rather bear the name of the world, and he will never let others manipulate him.
He was never afraid of loneliness, a round of bright moon with warm wine, raise a glass and ask the rainbow, but unfortunately, he could not beat the wine, lying on the back of the nine streams, a drunkenness.
Wu Shan wind to clear, maple evening listening to spring rhyme.
His fingers are lightly wrong, a folding fan shaking like the wind, haphazardly pointing out the ink color of the four characters stained white fan, if you say that he is fooling around, he will grin at you naughty smile.
A song of shocking sound, outside the building to pick the nebula.
The gentleman is like the wind, free this life gentleman intention.
Black hair lightly ruffled, fingertips embers point the world cool.
The light sword is like a dragon, the heavy sword has no edge.
You are not destined to catch him, but you will be able to touch him at the West Lake. He will turn around and take you into his arms, warm your hands in the snowy sky, and steer the world with you in the smoke and fire. In the end, he will give you a heavy sword as an abduction, with you together with the twilight snow white head.
Tang Clan One
Might as well love such a person.
His handheld exhaustive machine to take the life of thousands of miles of Qianji box, the waist of the blood-drinking concealed weapon killing intent.
He was dressed in black ink hair waiting for the darkness, arrows out of a moment of fascination.
His half-fan silver face covered with no sadness and no joy, but another half of the side of the painting eyebrows can be as warm as warm jade for you.
He does not ask the right and wrong to kill and kill, but to flesh and blood for the Tang a word cast on a clan a world of honor.
He would sit quietly at the top of the Tang family castle, wiping the poisoned crossbow arrows one by one in the darkness of the sky. When he raised his eyes, he was as cold as a sharp blade sheathed in blood, bathing in the sound of the soul.
He will also wash his hands of blood in the Underworld, hold up a reed boat to pick the ice white lotus in the water, a piece of bamboo leaf to blow a song of quiet good.
He can also fight with people in the Tang family set wine rowing fist, a mouth of Shu dialect laugh. On his way back, he dug up two bamboo shoots and went to the back of the mountain to play with the round pandas.
He has also asked the slope of the hill in the distance, the body of the old copper bell silence, shoulder flowers pile up, the bottom of the eyes should have a few points do not belong to the assassination of the people in love.
Why not go to love such a person?
He can be hidden as a shadow floating light, but will protect you behind you, for your arrow shocked the ghosts and gods cracked the clouds, broken arrows and bones nine deaths regret.
He can also remove the body full of sharp weapons to embrace you in his arms, careful to avoid the sharp fingertips on the hand armor, caress your cheek and hair.
Go love such a man.
The Jialing River side of the bamboo forest, he will be with him for many years mask off into your hands, from now on, three thousand chasing life is not for the life of the killers, but for the protection of your smile and no worries.
Mingjiao a
Jianghu is so prosperous, you may meet him.
He was dressed in white hunting, dyed on the sun and the moon's light, holding two curved sword, the Western region of the gemstone decorated in the handle of the knife, shine cold sand.
His heterochromatic pupils were unafraid, as flawless as the light he believed in. He covered his long hair with a hood, but what he couldn't hide was his arrogance, how wild he was.
His eyebrows with the gale of the cold, but the bottom of the eyes are loaded with the desert of compassion, curved lips smile like the first melting of snow and ice, the flow of the wind like a picture.
Why don't you go and find him under the tree? Look at him standing under the tree, tilting his head and gazing at the moonlight caressing the branches of the flower red, a few nights away from the love is difficult to tell.
Or go to the lake to find him? See him at the lakeside drink, not a jade cup, a altar of desert agar. The body is slightly drunk like a willow hanging on the lake shadow, half closed eyes like a plum falling in the snow. The moon's waves are cool, reflecting the frost on the shore.
You can even go to the top of the light to find him. The desert is a tall building, he crossed the jade a song, singing all the lonely smoke and sunset. The top of the light is often the sun and the moon in full bloom, the sound of the song is full of killing and war, that three points of the sound of depression, he only to you to listen to.
Why not go to find him? A flying horse, facing the wind and sand, the sea of no return may not be prosperous enough, but there is still him.
Go to him, listen to him whisper for you to recite the joy of life and the pain of death. Let him make a pilgrimage of words only for you.
Pure Yang I
Go seek him.
A gourd made of thin silver hangs from his waist, and when you open it, you will smell the scent of wine made from clear springs.
His hair carried the scent of snow-washed water, blending with the heavenly fragrance of the Sanqing Hall that surrounded his body all year round.
The costume he wore was thick and simple, with silver cuffs embellished with black lines of wide sleeves piercing the clouds, and the taiji-pendant on his crown swaying with the movements of his body. He stretched out his hand and caught the first piece of snow,
He twirled the duster in his hand and carried a long sword on his back, sitting and watching the flying snow in the wind,
He drank a pot of wine, a lone traveler stepping through the Cangxia sunset,
He condensed the true qi on his fingertips, and drew lightly on the air in the middle of the water and the sky,
He tasted the world's suffering, and under the three clearings he saw the clear dust and cause and effect. I can not help but laugh and ask why not easily brush off the yellow dust on the shoulder at the beginning
He was in the layers of mist under the flying snow of the eye waves, look at the old age, sit and listen to the morning bell.
If you love him, go to Mount Hua to find him.
Walking past Lotus Peak, a shoulder of white snow, full of white frost. See the snow that falls on his meticulously organized black hair. He is looking at you too.
Walking from Taiji Square to Sword Discussion Peak, looking at each other from a distance. Also count the white head. Then the same long stream.
Pure Yang II
Go see her.
Her eyebrows are warm and moist like jade, smiling eyes curved up, not as dazzling as the stars, the sun and the moon, but and the flying snow and air spinning like flying and flowing light.
The jade pendant around her waist was put on by Yu Rui when she reached maturity. The master told her that the Taoist law of nature does not add to the demons of the heart. Uncle Yu told her that the daughters of Mount Hua are as gentle as water.
She traveled down the mountain with Tengkong hanging from her waist. She scooped up a handful of water and patted her face, and said to herself in the water, "If I have to, I will never teach my sword to be unsheathed.
Sitting on her steed, she traveled to countless places and saw many people and things. She met her Brahmacharya and fell into the net of dust.
She sat on her horse and watched the figure walking with reins in front of her: the red plume on top of her head swayed gently with the movement, and her mouth hummed a hu song from the border. She felt he was her Dao.
She picked Fusang in the east and reed in the right, and blessed rivers and mountains and heroes in her evening lessons. Her good man with the long wind to go also, before leaving she told him. Huashan's daughter is made of snow, once near the fire will be turned into clear water.
She returned to the mountain gate along with the wind and frost, and the Big Dipper was hidden in her form. Her hair was tied up at the temples, and three hairpins were fixed to her head. The dark blue kanji was draped over her shoulders, and silver jewelry clung to her forehead. The mountain winds were as old as ever, and the grace of a long absence.
She looks just like she did back then, and her eyes are still curved up when she smiles. But no longer like flying snow flow light, but deep, deep down in the water. In the water into one gurgling.
If you return with the wind, go and see her.
Pure Yang IV
If you meet him in the jungle.
The corners of his lips are hooked out in clear elegance, and his eyebrows are like light ink studies.
The crown of his hair will be once the frivolous convergence, cut off the earthly attachments.
Despite the fact that his clothes are unchanged white, he can't hide the splendor between his eyebrows.
Behind him is a light sword, the sword in all directions, traveling the world.
He once stood with his hands in the air at the Sanqing Hall, looking out over the snow that never melted.
He has also swabbed his sword gently at the Sword Festival, and his sword broke the sky, and his breath penetrated the clouds.
He also left a figure in the Pure Yang Palace, but now there is only flying snow to tell the year.
I hope you can meet him.
The ladder cloud a vertical, body as light as a swallow.
It can also transform the three Qing dynasty, swallow the sun and the moon.
You have climbed to the summit with your umbrella, and you are also looking for him at the peak of the empty mist.
He turned around, and his eyes remained the same.
You saw him standing alone, and there were no words.
He left two lines in the snow with his sword, asking where the true king is, not looking for the sword fairy in the jianghu.