In the fourth year of the Qin Dynasty, the streets of Qilu were prosperous and picturesque, and Su Xuan came through the alley with an empty stomach. There was a plaque inscribed on the Little Saint's Village on the lintel of the vermilion door. He smoothed his clothes and went to knock on the door: He had traveled half his life just to study. Even if the smell of meat buns filled the city, he had to cross this threshold first.
Too much nonsense, retreat