It rains in early spring, and the grass on the roads is luxuriant. Whose young master in white clothes hears a flute tune in the distance. Looking back for a startling moment, the features of old friends are vague, and the memories are endless. There is no need to count the original intention, and the old things cannot be mentioned. The wind is howling, the thunder is trembling, and the rain is coming. Under the eaves of the thatched house, the young man is like a flute between jade fingers. Life gathers and disperses floating clouds, meeting white dew and morning sun. Unfortunately, the fate of the world is thin. Although we have regrets in this life, we will never be separated from each other in the next life.
——"Shui Tiao Ge Tou. Remembering Du Xiaoxiao and Lin Chuyu"
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