壹我独撑一把纸伞行走在蜿蜒绵长的小道上,天地辽远,远目的尽头是一处茅庐,花篱外依稀几根青竹。雨水顺着青竹脆叶滴落,血水绵延。转眸,便望见了海棠树下斜倚在竹榻上的公子。他一袭蝉翼青的纱袍,黑发间一根青玉簪,手中玉笛伴着薄唇奏出清丽之曲。白海棠落瓣纷纷,落在那风姿隽爽的身上。倘若不是篱外几摊血迹煞了风景,倒也 One I am holding a paper umbrella walking in the long winding path, far and wide, the far end of the project is a faded cottage, outside the fence a few green bamboo. Rain dripping along the bamboo crisp leaves, blood stretches. Turn the pupil, then hope to see the son of Begonia reclining on the bamboo couch. He was dressed in a cicada green yarn robe, black hair between a green jade hairpin, accompanied by a thin lip flute in the hands of the Qingli song. Begonia falling petals have fallen, that grace posture handsome body. If not a few stalls outside the fence bloody evil scenery, down too