The south of the Yangtze River is good for humanity, and the scenery is picturesque. As long as you pass the winding high slope of Shu, you will see river flowers everywhere, like fires, and lotuses moving on boats. It was late autumn when the young monk came here. The yellow leaves on the ground are like sugar and frost, covering the huge city of Yangzhou like sweet and greasy malt dip. He was standing alone at the gate of the city holding an alms bowl, chanting Amitabha and looking around on tiptoes. At this moment, a small body hit him hard on the back.
In a panic, he dropped his bowl. The little monk hurriedly leaned over to pick it up, but was grabbed by the collar by a force of brute force.
Conception: