I live at the head of the Yangtze River and you live at the end of the Yangtze River.

It's another rainy night, and I can't sleep by the window. Dear Qian Qian, how can I express my missing heart? When everything passed away quietly, you knew I was still waiting, and I never gave up the courage to love you. Qian Shan is full of water and mountains are high, but she puts her thoughts into beautiful melodies and records them in her dreams. There is your vague figure in the dream, so lonely, so proud, so blooming, on the shore of life.

Years later, when the little dream dust settled, I realized how far it was and how long I cared. When I walked so long and so many days fell behind like fallen leaves, I suddenly found that many dreams were reversible. For example, when I was young, I was obsessed with the distance, and a long trip was reduced to the melancholy of homesickness today.

Endless thoughts turn into tenderness. Write down your tender and sweet thoughts about him on rice paper. What a wonderful mood. When a sadness is replaced by warmth, your thoughts become extremely satisfying. As long as you think about one person, you can feel eternal commitment.

I like to play a song in a loop until I get tired of listening to it. I like to be paranoid about someone until I hate it. When I miss someone, I will think over and over in my mind. Where are you at this moment? What are you doing? Can you also feel this yearning?

Time is like a comb, combing the mottled yesterday, the noise of the city and the loneliness at night. The wind plucks up the strings of missing, writes lyrics on the strings, and plays the same feeling for you every time, with a little pain and a little joy. I just never told you that you have become a secret in my heart and a dream that I care about with my heart. Maybe when you turn around, beauty will turn into pieces, and I have no hope to spread this yearning.

A night of rain, a night of you, are in the hearts of insomniacs, bit by bit, like thorns, a touch, then bursts of regret; Rain knocks on the window, rain knocks on you, all floating in the gap of night, as if remembering, leaving each other coldly when you think of it; Dawn, the light outside the window, through the deep night, bright as eyes, you see the window, see the rain on the window, but can't see you in my heart. Missing you, like missing brought by rain, is becoming clearer.

It's snowing. I seem to hear the sound of snow. Is that your light footsteps? Missing is like snow, falling profusely, flying freely, moist and tactfully. Insist on a kind of waiting, continue a kind of beauty, and hope you will be safe all your life when you are thinking about you. A love song, stirring for thousands of years, is filled with emotion, even if it is unforgettable for thousands of years.

I live at the head of the Yangtze River and you live at the end of the Yangtze River. I miss you every day and drink the Yangtze River water. I broke my troubles, gave up my troubles, propped up the raft, propped up the oars and sailed in your direction. Even if the voyage is unknown, even if the rapids are dangerous, I am not afraid of the wind and waves, just because I miss you.

Peach blossoms are swaying in the moonlight, hidden in thoughts. The evening breeze brings a faint fragrance but can't find a shallow mark, like you, as if it were just in front of you, but in the horizon. As misty as fog, I lost my eyes and dispersed a little bit of gloom. Afraid of being seen, breathing into a flashing smile. Look up, send a message of acacia, and fly into your dream with soft clouds.

If meeting is fate, it always comes and goes in a hurry. Fate comes and goes like duckweed on the sea. When we meet briefly, we will face all kinds of things. Feelings may be the most fragile, and it hurts when touched. How much unforgettable love is floating in the wind in the world of mortals, and how much acacia is scattered in the rain? Lonely midnight, I miss the seventh chord, and that wonderful voice is sad.

Spring water, Ding Dong, rippled. Deer, hiss, half a cloud is singing. The water is becoming more and more pure because it keeps flowing. A simple piano sound, which I still miss, is lingering with running water and rolling mountains. Boya lost his string, and I listened to the wonderful voice of the world. Fortunately, we met, but fortunately, many things happen.

Incense-burning banks are doomed to hold me and a tired light and shadow, because the waning moon always comes to the world quietly in dreams. Who is waiting for the afterimage of butterfly feathers by the river, elegant butterfly? I remember the day you left, I was lost in your bewitched wings, and the occasional bird song tore the wound of the flower. Why can't the wind blow away the sadness I miss in my dream?

Miss that turbulent day, I silently looked at the distant back, quietly and carefully read the pain and sadness you gave me. I have prayed a thousand times that you can read my mind deeply, and I have prayed a thousand times that you can understand the pain behind my smile.

When did the moon begin to appear? Ask about Sky Wine. I don't know what year heaven is. I want to go with the wind, but I'm afraid that you, alone, alone, alone, will bring me a shadow and let the three of us. Ask about wine again today. What about people who read text messages? Wine in my throat, miss life, can't sleep, miss you!

Standing in the wind and rain countless times, letting the wind blow away those endless heartache, the rain man washed away those thousand-year-old pains until he was numb, his heart was slightly blue, his eyes were faint and crystal clear, and he said with a smile. The beauty in the storm is unforgettable. After being injured for many years, I always feel refreshed when I recall it.

Looking back on the past, I lamented the crystal-clear helplessness, and my tired body unloaded the tedious worldly dust, thinking about your watery face, elegant beauty and wonderful stories in the mottled rings. Information is indescribably weak, with sadness that can't penetrate autumn water, wake up dusk and wake up dawn.