这里没有辉煌的台榭,没有精致的轩窗,亦没有添香的红袖。有的,只是孤灯一盏,以及灯下那一串厚重的历史弥音。此时有雨点滴落,在这静谧的夜晚,在这微微变深的初秋。于是夜雨也有了一种特别的诗意。何不翻开书页,去追寻那些个遗留在历史轮轴间的时代颤音,共悟人生…… There are no brilliant Taiwanese here, no exquisite Xuan windows, and no Hongxiang sleeves. There was only a single glimpse of the lonely lamp and a thick history of light under the lamp. At this time there is rain falling, in this quiet night, in this slightly dark early autumn. So the night rain also had a special kind of poetry. Why don’t you open the pages and pursue the vibratos of those eras that have been left between the historical axes and realize the life...