Postscript
Bit by bit, Basho's heart is broken,
The sound reminds me of the beginning.
When I want to sleep, I still read old books.
Yuanyang's small characters are still written with unfamiliar hands.
Tired eyes suddenly lowered and blurred,
Rewatching half of it is blurry.
There is a solitary lamp in the cold rain in the secluded window.
After all the materials and feelings are exhausted, is it still true that there is no love?
——Nalan Rongruo