I'll pick you a passage I wrote in the past. Think about it yourself.
The night is like ink, melting slowly in the time like water. The moon is as cool as water, projected on the stone steps like white jade, splashing a cold light.
She found herself in a warm embrace, notably, a purple dress. On the smooth and soft brocade, peony is entangled.
She looked up, as if lost in a gentle dream. Beautiful face, like a poem
Yes, it's beautiful.
Beautiful as brocade, elegant as ink. Two completely different temperaments are brought into full play, but they are skillfully blended together without any disharmony.