He picked up the package and walked onto the official road to Chang'an. The wind was blowing with shards of ice, and the rising sun was steaming with the biting breath of the living. There was a bit of blue in the sunlight, like a diseased eye. The shadow was very long, making his back look a little rickety. On both sides of the blue avenue, the colorful spring colors were like pouring Xiang'an water, but he turned a blind eye, as if he was seeing the snow-capped Guo'an winter in front of him. He took three steps forward, and in his mind he took three steps back.
Writing poems, writing articles, cooking wine and making tea, the young man was supposed to be riding a horse and blowing in the wind, but he was sitting alone like a bell.
He is only nineteen years old.
Intention: to show poetry and youthful style, strange love that is not tolerated by the world and attempts to break through constraints, and the reincarnation of helplessness but a little hope.