Green plums are boiled in wine, and the pen and ink are vivid. Each word and sentence reflects the sky, the sun and the moon. The world in the heart, the rivers and lakes in the dream, although I have read thousands of people and everything, can I understand love, hate, and hatred?
With a pen and paper in hand, I sigh about the warmth and coldness of human nature, and talk about the impermanence of things in the world. Dear readers, if you are leisurely and elegant, follow me and tell me.
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