he drizzle soaked the time, luxuriant grass, year after year, and grow together with hate. Phoenix floor deep, how many things like smoke, sealed in memory. Looking at the bronze mirror decorated with Luan bird pattern, embroidered with mandarin duck brocade quilt, missing the past, heart-broken. The red building, a hundred feet high, was facing the broad road. Dusk or early morning, there is always a light thunder outside the building. Beautiful beauty ah, lonely leaning against the building side of the appendix, bored the pedestrians on the road one by one count. In an instant, the car passed by, rolled up the dust, to the treetop. Alas, the pedestrians on the road and the women in the building, are imperceptibly old in this red dust. In the evening, a cold rain came from the west wind. In the Ming Dynasty, when the road is filled with water and water and sad. Dream, the REINS, thousands of miles of drift, the soul back to the dream, I saw little Yang flowers, floating full embroidered bed. Heartless people ah, I half hid the lady, but you have been slow to come, the sunset, see live up to the beautiful scenery of three spring days, shed light tears a few lines.
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