The further you go, the denser the forest becomes. The sound of flute often came to his ears, which aroused Wen Yan's curiosity. She heard the sound of a man reciting poetry in the distance, separated by the trees, which made the sound less real.
She quickened her pace, causing splashes of mud and water to stain her shoes and socks. Wen Yan didn't care at all and trotted forward.
When I walked to the pavilion, I still couldn't find the figure. There was only one flute left standing by the wall.
Wen Yan saw a line of small words on the paper and walked closer. The handwriting was both delicate and graceful: "The catkins are gentle in the wind, and the pear blossoms are raining lightly. The curtains in the spring shade courtyard hang down to the ground. A small bridge crosses the shadow of the blue stream, and a solitary smoke rises from the Qinglian market."
I realized that this is a poem written by Xie Yi from the Song Dynasty.
Purpose: Soul compatibility, hand in hand