The bare hands pluck lightly, and the five-note harp weeps in resentment; the red lips cherish the words, sighing at a dream of yellow beams. Have the dreams of fairies ever reached the depths of the courtyard? Can the deep affection of ordinary people really defeat the smoky world? Meeting by chance turns out to be the love of a lifetime; flying across the clouds, it ends up being a miserable love for three lifetimes. Dear spectators, the play is like life, and life is like a dream. When you wake up leisurely, the new cooking is still not yet cooked.