PREVIEW

... The tip of the brush was like a sword, and the title of a poem was actually like a sword.

Painting.

Scenery, ink.

Drunken elegant, welcome guests.

Bishui sat down and Qingshan sat down.

Spring rain dyed red clouds, autumn flowers painted brocade silk.

Under the Starlight Tree, he danced his sword. Written in front of Su Ying Court.

Moon Cloud Piercing Sword illuminated the mountains, curtains embellished with colorful silk walls.

I ...

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