There's a moonlit night on the flat sand, and there's ancient snow on the ladder to the sky. The willow smoke paints the bridge, and the watermelon song fills the night.
You whipped the horse without paying attention, while I raised my glass and drank alone, watching the shadows.
"Okay, okay, I didn't say I couldn't come back."
The story of Hou Ye Gong and the pseudo-Taoist priest Shou (...).