Reminiscing about the south of the Yangtze River, the flowing smoke is separated by the mist and the water, and the dark green mountain eyebrows are far away. The gold hairpin is in the double bun with tassels hanging down, and the wide sleeves and gathered mantle are fragrant. The soul lingers on the lintel of the small door. Gods, cat monsters, foxes, and Taoist priests are sober. Is there a sweetheart who can accompany me to get drunk tonight? A wrong way to suck a cat... A correct way to suck a fox... There doesn't seem to be a contradiction between being a sinister and a loyal dog, and being a silly lover doesn't seem to be impossible either...