A good night when the clouds break and the moon comes, a first night when the lamp rises slowly, a strange glance.
I was born in Chang'an, but I didn't see his face for the first time until I was nearly fourteen years old.
Like a pure stranger, I fearlessly patrolled the fringes of Chang'an City's wild passion that night, panicking to face the overwhelming enthusiasm presented to me by the market.
The people of Chang'an hide under all kinds of moving masks and joke with each other familiarly. The brightly lit enthusiasm of Zhuque Street broke the imagination I once thought was rich under the high red tile walls.
The east wind blooms flowers on thousands of trees at night, and even blows them down, and the stars are like rain. White horses and carved carriages fill the road with fragrance. The phoenix flute sounded, the jade pot turned light, and fish and dragons danced all night.
The moths are covered with golden threads of snow and willows, and the laughter is full of hidden fragrance. The crowd looked for him thousands of times, but suddenly looking back, he was there, in a dimly lit place.
It's a happy song, it's a clear poem, it's a little bit of starlight leaking into the high wall
Fang Zhiyu didn't know it at the time, but his life's fortunes and misfortunes were also unfolding accordingly.