If Li Bai had a circle of friends, his painting style would probably look like this:
Twenty years old: I have just been praised by the boss Su Ting as "comparable", and I am inflated. I am waiting online for an opportunity to become an official.
Twenty-four years old: 300,000 yuan scattered, and friends all over the world. Running out of money? Unimportant! The important thing is getting to know Meng Haoran.
Forty-two years old: Called to Beijing! The emperor personally served me soup! He Zhizhang called me an "immortal"! Gao Lishi? What's wrong with asking him to take off my boots?
Forty-four years old: I was given money and released... The boss gave me a severance package and told me to get out.
Fifty-six years old: King Yong visited the thatched cottage three times, and the opportunity came again! My wife stopped me? Don't listen!
Fifty-seven years old: King Yong was defeated, and I became a prisoner, a long-lasting Yelang.
Fifty-nine years old: Pardoned! Write "The light boat has passed the Ten Thousand Mountains".
Sixty-two years old: Before he died, he entrusted the poem manuscript to his uncle: "This is all I have left, don't lose it."
This is not a biography, this is a story of "Northern Drifting" 1,300 years ago.
Like you and me, he has had dreams, hit walls, been praised and stepped on.
But he spent his whole life proving one thing:
When people are alive, they can be naive or refuse to accept their fate.
The roc flies by, the moonlight is alive.
Let's tell his story slowly.
