The cicadas couldn't stop chirping last night. Shocked back from a thousand-mile dream, it's been the third update. Get up and walk around the steps alone. People are quiet, and the moon is dimly bright outside the curtain. The white head is a sign of fame, and the pines and bamboos in the old mountains are old, blocking the return journey. I want to express my thoughts to Yao Qin. If you have few close friends, who will listen if your string is broken?