"Firework Alley" is produced by Zhilefang Music Media. Not to be missed, the Chinese online original band "Zhilefang Original Music Studio" launched its latest Chinese style single "Firework Alley" during the 2010 National Day Golden Week. This time we have two creative talents from Zhilefang: Ji Liangxin and Ji Liangyu.

Ji Liang~Xin: Original name: Zhong Zhenxin. Ji Liang~Xin, who loves music from Guangdong, has brought us beautiful and beautiful works one after another with his sensitive and delicate "creative techniques", such as the Qingqingzi's reserved campus system in "Xia Zi"; "Flowers Are Not Flowers" The ethereal beauty in "The Lonely Port" and our Ji Liangxin are all at hand, while in "Fireworks Lane", Ji Liangxin is created through an old and famous beauty. We spoke affectionately and whispered about the innocence of green bamboo horses. The scene of playing together when we were young seemed to be in front of our eyes, at the end of the world, in our dreams or in our hearts!

Ji Liang~Yu: Original name: Fang Shuibing. Fang Shuibing, from Shangrao Sanqing Women's Literature Research Association, has written Chinese-style works such as "Green Silk Knot", "Two Flying Swallows", "Flower Fairy", "Fireworks in March", and "Jiangnan Diao", which have been well received. The diction and method of the paper all show Mr. Fang’s writing skills. This new collaboration with Ji Liang~ "Firework Alley" will be another feast for music and literature.

Lyrics: "Fireworks Alley"

Lyrics: Fang Shuibingzhi Lefang

Music/Arrangement: Jan Xinzhi Lefang

Singing: jan Xinzhi Lefang

Harmony: jan Xinzhi Lefang

Later period: jan Xinzhi Lefang

The moonlight lies on The west wind in Fireworks Alley has eroded the red makeup

Youth has a dream of pillowing on the yellow beam, and I am worried about whose husband I married

On the road where passers-by are passing, is it sentimental or empty regret

I still ask my father-in-law Why doesn’t Jin Jin teach Jinse fifty sighs

The night in Fireworks Alley reminds me of my young son

The time when the lights were dimmed by picking the woven fence wall

When I was young The past rests in the deep alley of memory

The fragrance of flowers on the bun is still the makeup I wore that year

Bees are obsessed with butterflies, they are in love with Zhang Taixiang, they are buying laughter, chasing joy and remembering the cloud bed

Who thinks about the pitiful red sleeves of a dream that ends in illusion

Is it because of the sentimentality of my hometown or the empty gaze when the tears are shed

I feel sad as I grow old, my temples are covered with frost and I can’t bear to see half of my thoughts left

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The night in Fireworks Alley reminds me of my childhood son

The top turns to the beauty fan, shaking quietly in my hand

The expectations of the young have become as old as frost in this life

The blurred appearance makes the lovesickness in vain more heartbreaking

At night in Fireworks Alley, I think of the young boy

The top turns the beauty fan, shaking quietly in the hand

< p>Young expectations have become as old as frost in this life

Blurred appearance, lovesickness in vain, more heartbroken The story behind the lyrics

Firework Alley postscript

Text: Fang Shuibing

Swallow Feiyu Lane has a sweet smell, and a ten-mile rouge beauty ring.

Who among the princes and grandsons is destined? Forget about fame, poetry and books for now.

The alleys are long and dark, and the dilapidated courtyards are vaguely visible, the flowers of yesterday. On the stone tablet at the entrance of the alley, the official script can be seen: Yanyu Lane. (The name of the alley is because the girl Yanyu, one of the top ten most famous singing girls in the area, once lived here. There is a poem that goes: "The swallows in Feiyu Lane have a fragrant mouth, and a ring of rouge beauties from ten miles away. Who among the princes and grandsons is destined? Forget about fame and poetry for the time being. ”)

Counting to the seventh household from the alley, the house no longer looks like a home, with ruins and tiles, completely losing its former style. This is a deep shadow of loneliness in the bustling city. of streets. The old brick walls are covered with vines. The vicissitudes of time and the mottled growth rings make it impossible for anyone to remember the time when birds sang and danced here, and the flowers were red and the willows were green. The beggar in ragged clothes on the street has gray eyes like a sky covered with dark clouds. He doesn't know when his world will see the light. The rickety old man was sitting in the half-covered dilapidated house in the courtyard, basking in the sun. His withered face was uglier than the old brick wall. Maybe she was also a Xiaojiabiyu many years ago, but time flies and cannot be recovered. are all tasteless memories.

There is only one gray-haired old woman living in the deep courtyard of Ruoda.

The slender fingers are thin and long, and the calluses left by plucking the strings can be faintly seen, clearly showing the prosperity left over from the turbulent years. There is also a touch of redness in the corners of the deeply sunken mouth, like a full heart. The water in the cherries has been drained, leaving only a dry appearance. Although he is old, and although his appearance has been crippled by time, he still maintains the appearance of his youth, which is noble and refined, fresh and natural, and as beautiful as stepping out of a painting. But now he wears this withered figure. The bottom is pitiful, crazy, ruthless, lonely... speechless!

When she was young, Miss Yanyu was a stunning singing girl (the kind who only performed arts but not her body), and her best song was "Fireworks Alley", which she wrote the lyrics for: Moonlight Lying in Fireworks Alley , the west wind has eroded the red makeup, and I have a dream of youth resting on a yellow beam, wondering who I will marry. On the way to and from passers-by, sentimentality is still empty and regretful. I still ask where Gong Jin is now. I don’t teach Jinse fifty sighs; bees are obsessed with butterflies and fall in love with Zhangtaixiang. They buy laughter and chase joy in the cloud bed. The floating dreams end up in vain. Who pity the red sleeves? consider. The tearful eyes are about my hometown, the sentiment is still empty, I sit and worry about growing old, my temples are frosty, I can't bear to see half of my thoughts are left; at night in Fireworks Alley, I think of the time when my son was young, weaving fences and walls, and the lights were dim. The past of childhood rests in the deep lane of memory, the fragrance of flowers on the bun is still the makeup that I wore that year; at night in Fireworks Lane, I think of the young boy, turning the top into a beauty fan, shaking quietly in his hand. The expectations of young people have become as old as frost in this life, and their appearance is blurred. The longing for lovesickness is in vain and even more heartbreaking.

The son-in-law in "Fireworks Alley" was girl Yanyu's childhood playmate. They played together, grew up together, played with green plums in hand, and played in front of the bamboo horse door, that's all about them. The old man's memories stretched like the sunset on the horizon: "Brother Yu, wait for me, don't run so fast, I won't be able to catch up with you..." Yan Yu's red face slowly fainted, and she gasped slightly, Holding the spring willow on the side of the road, Dai Mei frowned and shouted angrily.

"Yan Yu, Yan Yu, you said you are so weak that even the wind can't be bothered to blow you away." After Yu finished speaking, she walked back towards Yan Yu with ill intentions, pretending to give Yan Yu a hand. The look... Xiao Yanyu thought that what she just said had an effect, and Yu must feel sorry for herself.

"Yan Yu, come on, give me your hand and I'll help you walk for a while." Yu said and stretched out her hand.

"Oh, brother Yu...you are so bad! You retracted your hand before I could hold him steady, it hurts me so much." Xiao Yanyu had such a frown on her eyebrows, but now It was even more clear that there was a kind of hatred, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Haha, you are so stupid. How can there be an idiot like you? Yan Yu, when will you be able to protect yourself?" Yu said with a smirk on her face as if she was seeing a joke.

"Brother Yu...you are bad, you are bad! Please don't bully me in the future." Yan Yu's red and swollen eyes, full of tears, gave birth to infinite love for him.

"Okay, okay, let's go home. Don't cry anymore."

The spring in the south of the Yangtze River quietly planted a feeling of affection in the hearts of the two young boys, a kind of innocence that they could not let go of until many years later. The river bank was full of wicker trees that lowered their heads, like girls dressing up in the morning. The elegance of time, the red flowers, the green shade, the jingling water, and the prosperous days of the ancient town all passed quietly by the young man. They only knew each other's existence.

Later, Yu joined the army and never returned home in glory. I don’t know what the reason was, so he never came back, and there has been no news about him since. But Xiao Yanyu devoted herself to becoming a singing girl in Yanyu Lane, playing her "Firework Alley" over and over again. Many princes and grandsons came here because of her fame, and Yanyu asked them countless times for news about Yu. , all without answers, year after year of waiting, year after year of loneliness, Yan Yu is getting older slowly, Prince Wang and Sun Gong no longer come, and the once prosperous Yan Yu Lane gradually becomes quiet, but every day When the moon is full and late at night, there will always be desolate singing and playing from Yanyu Lane, and the loneliness of "Firework Lane" floats...

At night in Firework Lane, I think of the young son, picking up Weaving fences and dimmed time. The past of childhood rests in the deep lane of memory, the fragrance of flowers on the bun is still the makeup that I wore that year; at night in Fireworks Lane, I think of the young boy, turning the top into a beauty fan, shaking quietly in his hand. The expectations of young people have become as old as frost in this life, and their appearance is blurred. The longing for lovesickness is in vain and even more heartbreaking.