The reliance on Xuan Machines fades into the twilight, while Chongshan remains hidden. Now leaning against Xuan and listening to the rain, my mind is filled with the faint smoke of Tian, dimming in your eyes. In the drizzle, students sigh endlessly over the thousand bridges, luo, Jun Ying, still witnessing changes. Presently, Bie Yinan looks back into the distance, where the boats of predecessors have already gone far. Broken dreams awaken lonely times; whether past love had meaning concentrated in tears, silently worth a thousand words. Tears cry out sorrows and joys, as if the sweet and sour astringent lengthy rain, like the worry cotton of Nike's worth.