The clouds are thick with mist, the breath is beautiful, the field is beautiful, the palms are still green according to their temperament, the daikon flowers are blooming but cannot be covered with purple gauze, the plum blossoms are delicately made up, what a pink beauty, the white pomelo flowers hide their merits and fame, just waiting for him to fall into the sky, who is teasing the mullet fish on the corridor outside the house? The clanging sound of Nagaya's piano. It brings a sigh from the ancient times. Motherwort green turns defeat. Peach blossoms are transformed into flying sky. How does the world know? Who can understand the lovesickness in the boudoir?