Under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, you wear long hair, and the oil lamp imprints your delicate outline. You are drinking wine silently and looking at you. At that moment, you are like a beautiful and quiet scenery in the ancient town, just drinking silently. Drinking wine, looking at the sky full of stars, looking at you under the tree, unknowingly you are already drunk, and I can’t see you again the next day, I hope I can see you again, in this inn, still there Under the Osmanthus Tree
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