| Finally understand that some roads, only a person to go. Those who invite good peers, accompanied by the rainy season, through the years, but one day will eventually be in a ferry discrete. On the red strangers, walking alone, green flowers brushed over the skirt, Qingyun wet promise. Mountains and water can be forgotten, and the sun and the moon can have nothing to do with each other. At that time, only a person's floating world Qinghuan, a person's long stream.Though we enter this world with our own missions, we are all but passing travelers—none stays forever. In the end, ashes return to ashes, dust to dust, and past glories scatter like fleeting clouds. In youth, we recklessly squander the present; in old age, we yearn to borrow from the future. A life of peaks and valleys, when looked back upon, seems as light as mist—not because we cling too tightly to the past, but because the world is ever-shifting. We must stumble forward, navigating the clamor of existence to carve out a way of living that truly fits our souls. |
