He was a poet monk, a love monk, a revolutionary monk, and a painting monk. He became a monk three times and returned to secular life three times, but he could never practice meditation. Walking in the red dust of fireworks, he used his life to interpret the beauty of death. In a short life journey of thirty-five years, although he was talented and left a legend that no one could match, his life was as desolate and helpless as if it were overgrown with weeds. He put on his cassock and walked through the Qin Tower and Chu Pavilion, but he never coveted the fireworks of the world. He went all out for the revolution and wrote his own legend in the troubled times of the Republic of China. For love, he devoted himself to it, but never dared to go deep into it. He only left a sentence: "I will return my tears with a bowl of Xiaoxiang tears. I wish we could meet before we were shaved." When he was dying, he wrote eight words to this world that he hated but also missed: All sentient beings have no worries.