The most talented man in the Qing Dynasty, but there is an indelible sadness flowing between the lines. What makes this rich man worried? Is it the warmth of meeting Hongmeng for the first time when he was young? Is it a sad old dream that "it was just normal at that time" as an adult? Or is it the tenderness you encounter while standing among the painted boats while walking in the south of the Yangtze River? The immortal prosperity in his mind may no longer be known, or it may be hidden among the beautiful lines of poetry obscured by the mist of sorrow...
"This man is gone, I just think he is still a young man."
Wait for me that year, the begonia flowers will bloom.