A passenger ship is swaying on the long ocean with the residual fragrance of the English harbor dock. It has a nice name, called Hongqiao. The shipyard that manufactured it was in a city not far from Nanjing. It was a beautiful place, with both the prosperity of a Western city and the beauty of a water town in the south of the Yangtze River. There are many beautiful arch bridges there.
Tourists studying in the UK will think of the soil and spring breeze of their hometown whenever they board this ship; while the blond and blue-eyed businessmen from the UK appreciate the charm of China on the ship before they even arrive in China. People come and go, and so do thoughts: longing, joy, excitement, ambition, all kinds of thoughts and moods, all of a sudden ripple in the air, soaked in the moist sea breeze.
A young man sat alone on the gangplank. The wind ruffled his hair, revealing his full forehead and deep eyebrows. This beautiful scene fell on the pure white canvas and was forever fixed by the delicate hands of the female painter. This is like the sentence in Bian Zhilin's "Fragment of Chapter":
You stand on the bridge and look at the scenery, and the people watching the scenery are looking at you upstairs. The bright moon decorates your windows, and you decorate other people's dreams.