I often hear people say "a hundred books", but I can't find its specific description on the Internet. I sincerely hope that people of insight can tell me what the book of eternal life is, where it com

I often hear people say "a hundred books", but I can't find its specific description on the Internet. I sincerely hope that people of insight can tell me what the book of eternal life is, where it comes from, and An immortal book has been written for a hundred years. Now it has become a format, Qinhuai. Bejk was the first person to write.

Best book format: Who will allow me in this life? (rhymes) (rhymes) (rhymes)

Baishishu

In a previous life, you were a passer-by in a hurry, and I was a passer-by in a foreign country. Looking back for an instant is doomed to eternal shackles.

In this second life, you are a galloping horse, I am the dust under my hoof, and my only dignity has been trampled mercilessly.

In the third world, you are the dying sun, and I am the moonlight at the first night. You have given me bright hope and despair that I will never encounter again.

In this life of four generations living under one roof, you were a silent monument last night, and today I am a tear. No matter how sad I am, I can't carve a scar on your heart.

The fifth generation, you are the son of a charming stranger, and I am a secret admirer of embroidery, separated by shutters for two days.

Sixth generation, you are a handsome and uninhibited scholar, and I am a singer beside Qinhuai River. In the years of singing and dancing, who will remember who is whose love?

In the seventh world, you are the loom in the weaving workshop, and I am the moss red line hanging on you. A level ruler measures whose thoughts and whose injuries are cut by a level ruler.

In the eighth world, you are an elegant pen and pen, and I am a thin layer of paper yarn. Why did you give me an unforgettable edge and tell me that you were in ruins?

In this ninth life, you are a dusty scroll painting on the nine towers, and I am a flower immersed in the tower. Whose cinnabar did I draw with tears?

This life is ten times, and Wen is determined to be a quexiang, and so is his son. At the beginning, jade bone, the muscle of the youth soldiers, was as beautiful as a fairy, and I admired you for being ashamed of flowers and closing the moon. If the inscription is printed, he will be shocked and stained with blue paste, which is evil. I hired four seasons flowers and gave him a Haitang from Xifu to make Qin and Jin happy forever. Do you want it?

In the 11th century, you are the ever-changing five lines of gossip, and I am the sand painting that printed the Hutuluo Book thousands of years ago. I am scattered all over the world, but you are still singing.

In the 12th century, you are the legacy of Lanting, and I am Mo Chi. Over the past year, I have washed away the lead, and a trace of ink has opened my heart to see your face.

In the 13th century, you were a cold plum standing proudly, and I was a rose dying at your feet. Have you ever regretted it?

In this life of 14th, you are the first snow in the northland, and I am the Qionghua on the ice tree. How much concern has a branch and a leaf achieved?

In the 15th century, you were a flickering lamp on Luzhou, and I was a lamplighter year after year. Candles warm the heart and cool the face.

In the 16th century, you were the bleak west wind, and I was a thin horse on the ancient road. How much fate do I have to bear in order to face your direction?

In the seventeenth century, you were the day when the horizon was born, and I was Luzhou, which was about to turn off the lights, drifting away and waiting for the next one.

18th century, you are a pear flower flying snow, and I am a blue-and-white patterned cup under the pavilion. A thousand cups of snow and a few slices of Qin Louyue.

19th century, you are a broken moon, and I am a glass of sake. The moonlight is not full, but I have drunk all my sadness.

In this life of the 20th century, Wen Ding was his son's classmate Quexiang. At the beginning, I saw Qing's fine eyes and admired you for learning to be rich and skilled before you got the title of three beams. I printed a book with rhyme, which is both fragrant and evil. I hired you on a romantic night, and I gave you the moonlight outside the eaves. Will you marry Qin Hejin forever?

2 1 century, you are a flying mural in Dunhuang stone carvings, and I was once a sculptor. History remembers glory, but forgets the past.

In the twenty-second century, you are the warmth of a thousand lamps, and I am the helplessness of a moth. I seem to see your smiling face without hesitation.

In the twenty-third century, you are a carved window and I am Mosha, which seems to hide a girl's sobs and sadness.

In this life of the 24th century, you are a leisurely painting boat on the Qinhuai River, and I am the first lantern on the edge of the Confucius Temple, forgetting the lingering sadness of the Six Dynasties.

In this 25 th century life, you are the pillow that flies with me, and I am the needle that sews mandarin ducks. It turns out that how serious love is, how deep the wound is.

In this 26th century life, you are stubborn and strong blind, and I am a puppet in your hands, even if it is fragmented, I never cry.

In the 27 th century, you are a wandering wanderer, and I am woven by your feathers. Ten years have passed, and the years have lengthened and shortened the shadow behind you.

In this world of the 28th century, you are a notorious assassin, I am your blood sword, and his love and hate are mottled with blood sword.

In this life of the 29th century, you are a historian who compiles books, and I am a poem with anecdotes. How many unknown people are deeply grieved.

In the 30 th generation, Wen Ding was in a state of ignorance and madness. At first, he saw your independence, braved the wind and waves in the cold river, admired your bow, shot down Sirius in the north, and wrote that you were king and evil. I hired you with a ten-mile soldier and gave you a seven-foot dragon gun. Qin Jinyong is good. Do you want it?

3 1, in this life, you are the girl who laughs at the red chamber, and I am the flower bed where you fall asleep. How much cold have you eaten?

Thirty-two, in this life, you are a holy monk, I am a Buddha's wheel in your palm, your inner peace, my feelings are like boiling soup.

In this life, you are a pot of Longjing tea in the West Lake, and I am a tea farmer who picks tea. I am bitter and bitter, deceiving myself.

In this 34-year-old life, you are the general who invaded the north, and I am the rusty armor of the sunset. His pike is cast with a scar and a sadness.

In the thirty-fifth century, you were the falling rain, and I was the new green of Chu Qing after the rain. How can I go on with my life without you?

In the thirty-sixth century, you were a simple and gentle jade, and I was a catkin falling into the world, silently intertwined with countless feelings.

In this life in the 37th century, you were the preface to my writing, and I was the market that came back after the book. I turned over several books and set off several fireworks.

In the March 8th world, you are a tearful bamboo outside Xiaoxiang, and I am the glory and decline that you can't escape. I only love your tenderness when the seasons change.

In the 39th century, you were a gorgeous woman, and I was the golden word in your heart. Whose infatuation floats with the flowers?

The 40th time, Wen Dingjue Xiang was in the same cabin with his son. At first, Qing Jian chose enemy generals and had no intention of conquering the country. He admired Qi Jun Town's decision on the battlefield and left me with the impression of sunset and evil in ancient Jinling wasteland. I hired Xie Wang Hall to give Enoch a present, which I will never forget. Will you marry Qin Jin forever?

In this world of 4 1 century, you are Pojun who devours jadeite, and I am a mountain forest deep in colorful clouds, where filariasis has broken the hearts of generations.

In this life, you are the son of Ju Jianjia, and I am the Millennium in your palm. The girl you want to give knows that my heart belongs to me.

In this 43-year-old world, you are an immortal seal script, and I think you are a freehand history, selling wine and writing a few sad stories.

In this life in the 44th century, you are the king of a country, and I am your contemptuous lie. You lived up to the expectations of all beings, but you were alone in the moonlight.

In this 45-year-old world, you are a picturesque scenery, and I am the wine put aside by the Zuiweng Pavilion, and I have drunk a lot of endless drunkenness for you.

Forty-sixth Bunsen, you are a stranger, I am reunited after a long separation, and the flute sounds over the mountain.

In the 47th century, you were a stirring Tang poem, and I was a euphemistic Song poem. Mo Yun's books from ancient times to the present are endless.

In this forty-eighth century world, you will never be forgotten, and I am a flower in my dream. Who is the past and who is sad?

In this 49th century life, you are a hopeless villain, and I am a sentimental method that you don't understand. Who did you tell about the pain of cutting bones?

In the fiftieth year of this life, Wen Dingjue Xiang and her son first met Beidou Tiangang, the magic weapon of Qing Daoism, admired the Hui merchants of your lyre, pipa horn and feather, and impressed the old man with new wine, which was bohemian and invincible. I rented my former residence as an antique and gave it to half of Iraq as a gift, so that I can always have a good relationship with Qin Jin. Do you want it?

Fifty-first, in this life, you are a famous family with a strong side, and I am a passerby who you turn around and forget. Why should I accompany you to the ends of the earth?

In this 52-century life, you are his beloved wife, and I am a worthless passer-by. I have no right to occupy your stingy memories.

Article 53 In this life, you are a stranger, I am a fleeting passer-by, and dropping a flower is a willing punishment.

In this 54th century's life, you are Guanyin on the lotus platform, and I am the child who practices truth under your seat. The scriptures under the plain lamp are all your smiles.

In this 55th century life, you are the guardian of the border, and I am the soldier in your account, facing only the cruelty of your decisive battle.

In the fifty-sixth century, you were a witty player in the Qin opera, and I was an audience who was still sighing after the curtain fell. Accustomed to loneliness, but don't like separation.

In the fifty-seventh century, you are my unbearable distress, and I am Shi Geng who cries in your story. Candle lamps cooled the cold students overnight.

Fifty-eight years in this life, you are a broken blx, and I am a carpenter Xin who knows how to retouch pictures, and my hands are dripping with blood.

In the 59th century, you were a lovesick patient and I was a helpless doctor. Silk and white flowers flooded all the stains.

In the 60 th generation, Wen decided to be a knight and enjoy the same reward with his son. At first, I saw the flowers bloom in March in the late spring of Qing Dynasty. I admire Jundongli for picking chrysanthemums and writing mandarin ducks. I'm impressed by water. I'm evil. I hired them with pen, ink, paper and inkstone and gave them to Yiliang. Will you marry Qin Jin forever?

Sixty-first, you are a hateful demon, and I am a monk in Purdue. Who did the Leifeng Tower suppress?

This sixty-two, you are the master of heaven and earth, and I am the scale on the ruler. There is still some moss on the newly cut clothes.

This sixty-three years, you are the other side of the river, and I am weak water and quicksand, sinking into the silence and noise that only belongs to you.

In this sixty-fourth century, you are the actor's first makeup, and I am the desolation of drama. Tears stain pear flowers, and cinnabar spreads two lines.

In this sixty-fifth life, you are a cherished memory of my life, and I am just talking about your promise and laughing and infatuating with myself.

This sixty-six years, you are the long brake in the horizontal array, and I am the heavy armor in the brocade. I wanted to protect you, but you said you didn't want to go back to China.

In this 67th life, you are the most talented Jiang Lang, and I am a girl who admires you. Even if your talent is gone, I will treat you as before.

In my sixties and eighties, you are the screen of the west wing of the painting hall, and I am the star of Beichen, who looks like you. The butterfly on the screen is written like a dream.

In this sixty-nine life, you are lonely Sirius, and I am a dress dancing under the moon. Looking back, I smiled and wondered whose world of mortals Dojo it was.

In the seventieth century, Wen Dingjue Xiang, together with his son, paid reparations. At first, Qing smiled at Qinhuai River and admired your black clothes and Gu Xiang's dress under the moon. The inscription on the Lianbu boat did not complain about the loss of life and evil. I hired him with a winding stream and gave him as a gift to Iraq forever, so that we could get married forever. Do you want it?

In the seventy-first century, you were a charming green fox demon. I danced with you in a dull tone, and the piano sounded only for your smile.

In the seventy-second century, you were the sentimental twenty-four bridges, and I was the ancient and vicissitudes Chang 'an Road, just for the sake of rhyme.

In the seventy-third century, you were the corner of the city outside the wilderness, and I was the eternal snow on the door and wall, witnessing how many nights and months became different.

In the seventy-fourth life, you are my most precious angel, and I am your most disgusting eclipse. The gap between the collapse time is word for word.

In the 75th century, you were a magpie on the Qixi Festival, and I was the sea, sky and wild land that you couldn't fly. Who is the endless robbery of all over the sky?

In the seventy-sixth century, you were the flawless snow lotus in Tianshan Mountain, and I was the unchanging sky in Tibet. I have waited for thousands of years for flowers to bloom and fall.

In this 77-year life, you are a fluttering prayer flag in Potala Palace, and I am your painstaking Zen, and the blue lamp accompanies you and me alone.

This 78-year life, you are caring for each other, but I am forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes. Emotions and sorrows are just a causal event.

In seventy-nine, you were the bell of the temple, and I was the annual ring of Bodhi. The gesture of ten steps and one kneeling on the pilgrimage road is nobler than God.

This life is eighty years old, and Wen Ding feels fragrant and dies with his son. At first, I saw Hexi near Liu Hou Temple in Qing Dynasty, and I admired your white clothes. I am not afraid of ghosts, and I was moved to tears. I hurt Xiaoxiang's soul and did many evils. I invited friends, and I gave Yi a snow burial, so that I would never forget Qin Jin's kindness. Would you?

8 1 century, you are the candle that burns the world, and I am the layer of wax that melts under you, and the warmth is eroded at the moment when the candle shadow shakes red.

In this 82nd century, you are the reclining Buddha in THE TEMPLE OF JIALAN Temple, and I am the sandalwood in front of the Buddha. The sound is far away, and the incense is behind, leaving a desolate place.

In this 83rd century life, you are a clown who is spurned by others, and I am a mask you hate, hiding so many truths for you, but in the end you can't even believe me.

In this life, you are a bloodthirsty and heartless dagger, and I am an artist. The prosperous ending can't escape waiting.

In the 85th century, you were an indifferent chess player, and I was your pawn. You abandoned me like a wasteland, but you didn't tell me that you had become an outcast.

In this 86-year-old life, you are indifferent to the world, and I am forever. No matter how persistent, it is just a dream.

In this eighty-seventh century, you are the deepest scar on my body, and I am a new flower in front of your grave. This is our home.

In my 88th generation, in this life, you are a golden harp with 50 strings for no reason, and I am a cuckoo dripping with blood, and rain and blood spill over the dusk in the south of the Yangtze River.

In this eighty-ninth century life, you are the evil spirit that her lips seem to recite, and I am your wish to make a decision with you. From then on, the ends of the earth separated from you.

In this life in the 1990s, Wen Ding was stunned and injured with his son. At first, I saw the makeup of the romantic cloister in the Qing Dynasty was cool. I envied your sorrow and sadness all night. I am very ill, but what's wrong with laughing? Evil, I am engaged wholeheartedly, I will give Yi San a life safe and sound, and I will always be good. Would you?

9 1 In this life, you looked back 500 times in your last life, and I met it for the first time in my life. What's done is done, but I miss you.

In these 92 years of life, you are my only hope, and I am your helpless sigh. How many colorful lines are wasted by circles that never coincide?

In this 93-year life, you are indifference that I don't understand, and I am silence that you can't face. I love and hate, burning my heart like a fire.

In this 94th century life, you are the beginning of my life, and I am the way back to your destiny. Don't leave me, abandon me.

In the 95th century, you are the world of mortals that I can't see through, and I am the reincarnation that you can't break. For green, I only drink a spoonful of weak water.

In this 96th life, you are an old man destined to get married, and I am Meng Po from Naihe Bridge. Maybe only in this way can we feel a little connection between you and me.

In this life in the 97th century, you are a ferryman who forgot the edge of Sichuan, and I am a heartbroken man who is homesick for Taiwan. I don't want to cross the other shore, I just want to see you again.

-I'm waiting for the 97th century, when things change, when the sea dries up, when rocks break, when things change-

-But I can't wait for your attachment-

If anyone dies at the age of 97, Naiheqiao will wait for three years.

Remember, I still owe you three vows-

-The first oath, you are a wandering Gu Mohist, and I am the oath he made. Mo Yan died of old age and illness, so it is not too late to sigh and laugh at pale words.

-The second oath, you are Gusu, where it doesn't snow in Chang 'an night, and I am a northern waiter on Qinhuai Road. I have an affair, stepping on magpies on Tanabata, holding your hand and talking to Zicheng.

-the third oath, you are my beloved girl, and I am destined to forget each other. I only think about your side, and 3,000 mortals are injured for you alone.

Wen Ding Quexiang, with her son, first met jade bone, a soldier of Qing Dynasty, and admired you for being ashamed of flowers and closing the moon. If you are impressed by the beauty of the country, you will be stained with green frost and evil. I will rent flowers from four seasons and give them to Haitang in Inosini, so as to make Qin Jin last forever. Would you?

One of my classmates, Wen Ding Quexiang, saw your beautiful eyebrows at first sight and admired you for learning a lot, so he won the title of "Three Liang". I printed a Millennium rhyme book, which is both fragrant and evil. I hired you on a romantic night and gave Yi the moonlight under the eaves, which will make Qin and Jin good forever. Do you want it?

Wen Ding is Quexiang, crazy with his son. At first, I saw you stand alone in the cold river, braving the wind and waves, admiring your bow, shooting Sirius in the north for self-protection, and writing down that you are king and evil. I'll hire you with ten Li soldiers and give you a seven-foot dragon gun. Qin Jinyong is good. Would you?

Wen Dingjue Xiang is in the same cabin with his son. At first, Qing Jian chose enemy generals and had no intention of conquering the country. He praised Huang Xuan in Qi Jun Town for deciding the battlefield, and I was deeply impressed by the sunset and evil in Jinling ancient wasteland. I hired Xie Wang Hall Sr. to give Enoch a present, which I will never forget. Would you like it?

Wen Dingjue Xiang and his son first met Beidou Tiangang, the magic weapon of Qing Daoism, and admired Huizhou merchants with their pipa horns and feathers, noting that the old man was bohemian and evil. I rented an antique from my old home and gave it to Iraq as a half-wall east wall, which will make the relationship between Qin and He last forever. Would you like to?

Wen dingjue enjoys it, and he enjoys it with his son. The first time I saw the chicks flying in March, it was in the late spring of Qing Dynasty. I admired Jundongli for picking chrysanthemums and writing mandarin ducks. I'm impressed by water. I'm evil. I hired them with pen and ink and gave them a dream. Would you like it?

Wen Dingxuan wants to make compensation with his son. At first, Qing smiled at Qinhuai River and admired your black clothes and Gu Xiang's dress under the moon. Lianbu painted the inscription on the boat, not complaining about leaving evil. I will hire you with a winding stream and give Iraq a gift until the end of time, and I will never forget the goodness of Qin and Jin. Would you?

Wen Ding Jue Xiang, father and son die together. At first, I saw Hexi near Liu Hou Temple in Qing Dynasty. I admire your white dress, and I'm not afraid of ghosts. My impression is that tears are pouring down, and Xiaoxiang's soul is broken and evil. I hired it as a gift. I gave Yi a snow burial. Will you marry Qin Jin forever?

Wen Dingjue Xiang, with his son, was injured. At first, I saw your romantic cloister player's makeup was cool, and I admired you very much. My heart ached all night, but I was ill, but I smiled. Ugh, I hired him wholeheartedly. I gave Yi San my life, but I was safe and sound. I have been married. Would you?

Writing: Qinhuai. Bejk

Gift: Yi. Painting and Burying Zhong Qing