The autumn dew is as cold as frost at night,

I don’t mind savoring the fragrance of osmanthus.

Who is pitiful to you for being obsessed with?

The long-cherished wish is not fulfilled and the high wall is locked.

Who can pity

The autumn dew lingers in the cold night,

It is difficult for me to taste the fragrance of cinnamon.

Who is sorry for Bing Xin?

Why don’t people think about it carefully? (How do you mean that you don’t think about it?)
Chapter completed!