Mr. Hu is from Jing'an, Shanghai, and has been working at Jiangcheng News Agency for two years. When we met and got acquainted with each other, he often drove me to a restaurant in the city called "Leisure Restaurant" to eat sumptuous delicacies, but I still can't forget the dish of "Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms" Beixiaocai, he was suddenly transferred to another job in the second half of this year. On my farewell trip, I took out the latest manuscript, and he nodded and smiled. As he read through it, he subconsciously moved his cheeks slowly and took a sip of tea, took off his glasses, wrinkled his face, and looked down carefully -
The poem mentions the south of the Yangtze River, the waves are dim, the willows are lingering, the lonely village is fragrant, the grass is far away, the apricot blossoms are flying in the setting sun, the spring in the south of the Yangtze River is gone, and the people in Tingzhou are full of apples and finally return.
The haze in the sky bites into the wood in small bites, biting away at the simplicity of the night... The faint half-moon hanging above the window illuminates the dim flowers, morning, moon and sunset, after two o'clock in the morning.