In the leisure time neglected in the busy life, I habitually drown myself in the pile of books, enjoy the blooming flowers of the season in the words, pour a cup of tea, and keep the remaining trace of warmth in the noisy world. The fleeting time is full of pen and ink, writing a volume of words and chapters, composing a piece of music, letting my thoughts fly, wandering in the book, and the ink is fragrant on my fingertips. --