Four words, antique, poetic and beautiful names.

You are infatuated with acacia, quicksand at your fingertips, tears in your heart, lonely travelers, and a thousand-year dream.

A person, who used to smoke, listened to the rain of an old friend, put on makeup on the green gauze, and ended up in a song. He was crazy about one thing, and the moon set in the west, the old snow in the pavilion, the bamboo and the golden harp, the rain by the window, the smile like a flower, the nanmu to lean on, and the dark blue dream, the thousand kites locked the painting, turned into a poem.

People who have gone against the wind in the past should not go there. They are much ado about nothing, smile peacefully, lead a drunken life, and be alone. Love is frozen, and people are dreaming.