Elegant Writing: Only Wishing for Tranquil Times and a Peaceful Life
May time be serene, and the present life stable. It's the gentlest in reincarnation, just a fleeting and extravagant love in troubled times. Ultimately, she was just a woman standing on a balcony in Shanghai's occupied district, watching the moon.
She said, when she saw him, she became very, very low, low to the dust. But in her heart, there was joy, blossoming from the dust.
She said, because of love, we are tolerant; because we understand, we are compassionate.
Time is serene, the present is stable. Perhaps it's the most beautiful wish of women in the world. Living in the deepest alley of Qingstone, she brews a pot of tea, the tea smoke curls, fragrant and misty. She reads a yellowed book, the story rises and falls with the creaking of the old rocking chair. The world is calm and uneventful, counting the flow of time, the house is time, the outside is time.
If I could, I would love someone and live with him in a tranquil Jiangnan town. I wouldn't bother with the migrating birds heading north, when they will return; I wouldn't ask, where the small boat will eventually sail. I wouldn't think about the myriad of prosperity in this world, the past long gone. We guard our lonely years, watching the autumn sun setting over the green mountains and water at the end of the stone bridge; watching the clouds roll and swirl at the end of the mountain; letting our fading youth have countless appearances, in the misty years, write a romantic story.
Time flies, we missed the flowering season, we missed the stars. Light flows easily, discarding people, cherries turned red, bananas turned green. The tumultuous footsteps shattered a stream of jade, but we couldn't understand, that's the best tribute to time. The smoke of the red dust swirls, shedding the flamboyant robes and clothes of the world, our days are nothing but empty.
Time is serene, it's the deepest longing of a woman's heart. Every beautiful encounter is the purest grace of time. But walking on the road to the ends of the world, we are just passersby.
You are a tree, you are the swallows chanting in the beam, you are love, you are warmth, you are April sunshine in the human world.
He is everything beautiful, the most brilliant fireworks in her life, burning fiercely, but leaving behind a cold and chilly night. She turned away, leaving a quiet silhouette, preferring to guard a blank memory, unwilling to let a jade-colored mole grow in her heart, until death, unable to erase it.
Walking along the banks of time, let every day bathe in sunlight, guard mountains and waters, live a simple life.
Present stability is the deepest longing of a woman for the red dust. We don't like to drift, we don't want to walk alone on the desolate road, afraid to be like a water lily, floating aimlessly without roots. We yearn for stability, even if it's just a small house, enough to shelter a soul weary of wandering.
Seek a city, seek a person, so that the mind can be intimately attached, erase the wrinkles of bygone years. Stop here, ride the clouds and horses in the deep years, quietly observe the rise and fall of tides, admire the carvings on ancient bookmarks, draw illustrations on handbooks with wax, when years grow old, faintly smell the fragrance of deep years, softly sing the long-gone melodies of bygone years.
On the stage of time, a play of joys and sorrows continues to unfold. The story of time, again and again, writes of joy and sorrow. With fingers, years pass quickly, the door in front of us is old and weathered. The mountains and rivers cycle through the seasons, but time stains it with vicissitudes, leaning against the years, quietly watching the wind and moonlight.
She was a legendary woman, in the long, hazy years, she became a silhouette. She walked through the fine mist and rain calmly, fragrant and fragrant.
The wheel of life, written in the withered textures of fallen leaves, leaving the traces of time passing. Dust light no longer repeats, in the scene where frost-covered pines bewitch the scene, the story has been rewritten from its original form.
Seek an old teahouse, sit by the water, listening to someone singing: Beautiful scenery and pleasant moments, how lovely the days of the year. Then hold his hand, walk away with the setting sun.
Only wish time to be serene, calm as water, compassionate and quiet;
Only wish present stability, extravagance and regret in the remaining years.
