You are like a boat in the fog, and I am like a night cruise holding a candle.
Sitting under the shade of Gui Ai Tong and raising his wine cup, Chang'an salivates in anticipation of the Double Ninth Festival. The road in front of me has no longitude and latitude, and the spring and autumn sky in the skin is black and yellow. What's the point of leaving the cauldron today? The fragrance of grain and millet remains in the sky on the moon. It is easy to recite the Buddha's name but difficult to have faith. If one's thoughts and words are not consistent, it is always idle.
Five sentences, okay?