First glance stole breath—breeze swept sleeves, lingering softness. Brows like distant dark peaks holding spring snow; eyes like cold stars mirroring night’s expanse. Flowers seemed to murmur, moon hummed content; life, a dream, drunk on such pure delight. Time may nudge age, but that first spark stays bright. Lanterns lit the old street, long and warm. Hands clasped, we stood, love a quiet storm. Clad in dark robes, grace wrapped her like a song; plain fragrance wove through her lapel all along. Her eyes held stars, shifting with lantern glow; flowers in her hair matched the moon’s soft glow. Let years melt here, I prayed, let life’s rough tide pass slow—together, we’d weather all, with smoke and flame, side by side. #十一月你好# #中国风# #有趣的灵魂# #隐世艺术家# #数字绘画# #art#