The folding fan is lifted up, telling a story about the past. The folding fan is put down, and the prosperity comes to an end sadly. Thousands of sails have passed, passengers have been rushing, and the prosperity at that time has become an unspeakable pain in the depths of time. Who will remember? In the drizzle during the plum rain season in the south of the Yangtze River, the girl held out an umbrella. From then on, the umbrella separated black and white, light and dark. An umbrella warmed the life of a young man. Who else remembers? In the high walls of the red gate, the fireworks and happiness of the common people can actually be derived, and a delicate flower suddenly blooms in the desolation. Who will remember? The sound of pounding clothes all night long in the deep courtyard was a sign of longing to return. Under the same moonlight thousands of miles away, the blood-stained clothes on the battlefield actually responded by not returning. His traces back then are hard to find now. The pear blossoms falling indifferently have no one to pity them for a long time. There is no trace in the history books, only two lines of tears shed by the listeners.