No one has ever been so close to the gods. Even if he reads all the books of Chang Yang from ancient times to the present, Ming Xuan He Bing is such a unique existence. Flowers bloom and fall for a thousand years, and the glorious past fades with the passage of time. Everything that happened at that time was condensed in the form of legends on the ancient scrolls in the library. As time passed, those stories and the scrolls were covered with layers of thick dust in the darkness. Occasionally, someone would open the books and gently brush off the dust on them. His bright eyes wandered through the words line by line, imprinting what happened in that turbulent era thousands of years ago into his mind, feeling the ups and downs of that era across the distance of time and space. After reading the whole book, I closed my eyes and slowly closed the book. I felt dazed for a while. I let out a long sigh of relief, but my mood suddenly became brighter and brighter. As soon as he opened his eyes, his sight was looking out the window. At that time, maybe the sun was shining brightly outside the house, the sky was pure and blue, and with the breeze, the lush green bamboo sea was undulating, the wind chimes were jingling under the eaves, and a few slender white delphiniums in the flower pots at the foot of the wall were swaying and dancing in the wind. Embrace your lapels to face the wind, and look out into the mountains and deep forests. The sky is far away and the earth is vast, and there is no sound. Only clusters of chrysanthemums in Dongling are blooming in the wind. They are as bright as a golden pool, whiter than frost and snow, and they are all over the mountains and fields. She loosened the bun on her head, put on a light coat and a large cloak, and sat under the shade of the beautiful tree trees, while the green smoke from the incense burner escaped into the sky. It was a late autumn time suitable for drinking wine and whispering about the past bit by bit.
Conception: