In the winter of the seventh year of Guanghe, Luoyang was covered with snow. In a pavilion next to Zhuque Street, a sixteen or seventeen-year-old young master was taking a nap on his couch while two beautiful maids added charcoal to warm the wine. The aroma of the wine was mixed with the smell of snow. He opened his black and white eyes and looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar place in front of him, feeling an indescribable feeling in his heart. Snowflakes drifted into the pavilion and fell on the young man's hair. People from later generations used to dive high into the sky with their backs to Angel Falls in their previous life, and they arrived at the end of the Han Dynasty when they opened their eyes.
Who is Zhang A? It's too perfunctory.