Yan Shu wrote a poem: The chrysanthemums on the threshold are worried about the smoke or the orchids are weeping with dew, the curtains are light and cold, and the swallows are flying away. The bright moon does not know the pain of separation and hatred, and the slanting light penetrates Zhuhu at dawn. Last night, the west wind withered the green trees. I climbed up to the tall building alone and saw Tianya Road. If you want to send colorful notes and rulers, you will know where the mountains are and the rivers are vast!
Conception: