他看见她的时候,是金秋,一所道观里。太原城外的大风吹着,吹过阡陌上的绿杨,落木萧萧,她囚居在密室内,泪落成河,流淌在地面的青花砖上,发出细弱的潺潺声。她的惊恐,不只是性命攸关,还因为她深陷 When he saw her, it was autumn, a Taoist temple. The strong wind blowing outside the city of Taiyuan blew the green poplar on the rice paddy road and fell into a rustling wood. She was living in a secret room and her tears fell into a river, flowing on the ground of the blue-and-white brick, sending out a delicate babbling sound. Her panic was not just about life, but also because she was deep