On a moonlit night, the fallen flowers are in full bloom, and the flowers are blinding. The river is sparkling and rippling. On the right is a shy and handsome monk on the east bank of the river, and on the left is a fairy made of centuries-old green willows on the west bank of the river.
Goblin: If my ankles weren't still rooted in the mud on the riverbank, I would have jumped over. I really want to touch that little monk's pretty face that pretends to be serious, guess what he has done with his young hands for ten years... I also want to throw away the Vajra bowl that he has held for ten years, and ask him by the way: Little monk, what sutra are you reciting? What kind of Buddha do you worship? You always hold the alms bowl and look at me, but you want to take me in and make me your little wife?
Monk: The sutra I recite is a serious sutra, and the Buddha I worship is to become a Buddha immediately. I look at you, and I just think that the willow branches are so soft, it would be very good to make a willow vine bowl...