About This Novel
The love songs of the autumn insects were vaguely melodious in the fresh air. At first they were heard intermittently, as if they were singing one and the other. Later, the sleepy babble of the frogs was interspersed, which greatly aroused the enthusiasm of the autumn insects. Soon there were many eager to win. Singing voices come out from the garden, from the pond, from the forest, from the grass, up and down the mountain, looking inside and outside, one after another, echoing each other from a distance, passionate sonatas, tender whispers, merge into beautiful chords, slowly blending into the watery moonlight. This is probably the autumn insect serenade mentioned by Taoist Master Mingyue. I once again set my sights on where Taoist Master Mingyue was meditating, wondering whether her Zen mind at this time was as bright and bright as the moonlight, or as lonely and lonely as the shadow of the moon.
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