One night after a long, long time, Confucius had a very strange dream.
The overwhelming quicksand sweeps across the country of the setting sun. Inexplicably, there is a kind of peace that I have never seen before.
I saw a green cow with a leather muff tied on its foot. It walked a few steps on the hot yellow sand and then raised its foot to blow on it.
Also, Qing Niu is not a camel after all. The skin on the soles of its feet is a bit thin, so how can it withstand the extremely hot sand?
The scroll lay lazily on the back of the green bull, like satin black hair spreading between the green and black folds, pouring with the quicksand.
At the end, he still squinted his eyes and looked at the gradually dim world of Guanzhong outside the yellow sand. He looked like he was reluctant to leave, but his expression showed no nostalgia. Instead, he seemed to be a little scornful.
The green ox is walking, the sky and the earth are vast.
Who can cook the fish and feed the cauldron with fuel? Who will return to the west with good news in his arms?