As smooth as silk, as flowing and echoing as water, as ice as night dew penetrates people’s hearts. Those light who thought they were young and frivolous finally fell in the time of youth like songs. Youth is like ice water of zero degree forever, lingering in the Eternal Boundary. Youth is like a white crystal snowflake, falling and fluttering, never knowing how long ahead is, youth is like a song that has not been finished. If there is no beginning, there will be no end. If you sleep alone in the night, you will be ridiculous and crazy. Pear flowers fall less than snowflakes, and songs of Everlasting Sorrow are better than walking away from you. What you meet, look at each other and miss are gradually turned into dust of memory, sinking and gathering day after day in plain. It’s ridiculous that I was looking forward to the White songs. But now it has been engraved on the line, but it is hard to remember it in the heart. If the heart stops water, it is just like ripples, sigh the years lightly, and look back! Unforgettable, unforgettable, but after all, it can’t defeat the crisscross entanglement between reality and time. The fallen memories are forgotten, either reconciled or extravagant. The illusion was smeared on the Phantom falsely, and the clouds which were considered ideal were still echoing in the sky. The old days had gone, which could not add any more sadness. The heart is like a mirror, hanging high in the heart.

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