On a cold night, the paper window reflected a bird on an independent branch, looking at the moon and crying. The bird's cry could be heard all night long. No one knew what it was crying for, and no one knew why it was crying. However, when someone went to see it the next day, it had already cried and died miserably under the big locust tree. It was red all over. It was the most beautiful Manzhu Shahua in the world.