Time is like a dream, like a rainbow, leaning against the railing, looking back is already a smoke cloud. .
—————————— Wen, chance &；; Ignite loneliness
When I put on my finger, I am fleeting. In the romance of summer flowers, I am looking for love falling from my fingertips.
In the whisper of seasons, time is quiet and the world is still beautiful.
Miss a person, the heart is also uncertain.
In the thinking ferry like water, twist a ray of memory to chase the waves and warm the fleeting dust.
Gently lean on the other side of time, waiting for a love that consumes all. . .
Persist in the long wait, prosperity is decorated with the whisper of the season.
The intersection of rings and you is the most beautiful legend of Mozi.
The poetic summer story in my mind overflows the edge of my heart and is soft and long. . .
Time flies, sometimes butterflies are flying, and love is infatuated, so it goes leisurely in the season of flying smoke.
Time flies, ten fingers are hard to stay, and those years are too late to look back.
It will not wither in the bleak breeze.
In my heart, there is a city of obsession. Deep down, when we first met, the dust settled with a bang. Pick up a ray of sweet words and tenderness,
Exiled in the changing scenery on the other side, the ethereal enchanting is eclipsed, but the memory is still full.
The sky is high and the clouds are light, and the wind is light and the clouds are light. Those beautiful water droplets condense into crystal clear eyes and are gorgeous in the expectation of the fundus.
The intoxicating floral fragrance softens into the continuous warmth of the palm along the texture of the annual rings.
Stay in the calm wind, stay in leisurely, and welcome a prosperous time.
With a heart as pure as powder, I am very happy in the winding season. . .
Bloom a bright smile to decorate time, take away one meter of sunshine, and wake up the worries at the corner of time.
Those light and far-reaching qinghuan are warm to read. In the distance, who whispers through the quiet curtains of Xia Feng,
Whose heart is tender? Bend down and kiss the summer flowers with your lips, which is warm and pleasant and fills your heart.
It's the end of the year, let's get close to each other and hold hands.
With the smile when we first met, we stood still and stayed in the colorful time.
I like the warmth of the years. I believe these past events will not be forgotten by time.
In this faint summer, the fingers are slim, fragrant and elegant, and the flowers bloom on the other side.
With a wisp of green onion, let the first throb dance lightly at your fingertips.
Rely on the depths of time, whispering the story of summer, listening to the silence of the season.
In the golden years, those deep or shallow time marks are traces of happiness and warmth.
In the prosperous fleeting time, I only wish to meet you again in the flower season and listen to the fragrant whispers of fleeting time.
Quietly looking for the whisper of time. In this life, meeting you is my nomadic hometown.
Silent passionate flowers, gentle butterfly dance.
When the prosperity is exhausted, with you, an endless acacia will breed in a quiet time.
The language of the wind, the shallow songs of the flowers, and mutual persistence have witnessed our most beautiful encounter in these years.
In the deep time, how I want to relive your smile when you look back.
In the morning light of birds and flowers, the warmth is full of tenderness in the fundus.
Can't stop feeling, quietly listening to the decline of butterfly language,
Thoughts bypass the fence of the season and gently bloom into a warm tree in my heart.
People who want to say goodbye are the most beautiful customs lurking in the city of time.
Xia Feng brushed the quiet buildings of this season and precipitated into the dust in his heart. At that time, his thoughts were dusty and prosperous.
At this moment, the heart is fragrant, still. Light years have passed, and I only hope that this season will make me smile forward.
On the threshold of time, the shallow singing of time came to an abrupt end.
Whispering colors, barren years, branches full of shallow loneliness,
Leave a touch of red dust memory in each other's scenery.
Who stirred up the dust of the years and ignited the long-standing loneliness in my heart in the ferry of memories?
Who, in the years of embankment, awakened the sleeping loneliness in my ears?
How I hope that in the hot summer, you will send a few strands of light and refreshing swaying, elegant and fragrant shore.
Gently twist a ray of tenderness between your fingers and plant eternal care. . .
The intersection of thinking and reading becomes a tremor in the heart and a charm in the eyes; Quietly falling into the summer plain, I miss a flower,
Through thousands of turns of care, watch the difficult reincarnation of the world. . . . . .