The dream was wet and empty, and the frequent knocking of clouds surprised residual leakage. A glass of turbid wine is ugly and red. I will change the glory of the world for a paper book. After reading it, I won't look back with a smile. In my sleep, I wandered in the open space with wet eyes and walked up the steps. Footsteps seemed to ignore the clouds, alarmed the sisters and left one by one. I woke up amazed. In this world of red dust, it is even more worrying to look at flowers in the fog and drown your sorrows in wine. ..... splendor is not comparable to this romantic poem, I raised my eyes, with a smile on my lips, and stopped looking back on those mundane things. The water in Qinhuai River is very cold, and the black bamboo beside the stone bridge floats with the wind, looking at the rain curtain with moving eyes and quietly falling outside his lonely window.