The spring moon is as full as flowing water, and the occasional wind stirs, bringing out a touch of sadness. The mist in the mountains makes the flowers bloom like the ethereal red dust in the distant mirror, and the wind in the mountains makes the occasional voices in the lonely valley add a bit of purity.
"Um, Mei, have you ever thought that today's moon would be more beautiful if it were bigger." In the moonlit night, a young man in Chinese clothes put his hands together and gestured to the size of the moon, with a flattering look on his ordinary face.
"No, today is the eleventh day, so there is no fifteen yuan. You have said this at least seventeen or eight times tonight, and you can't." The purple man waved his robe casually, and a cloud of smoke instantly covered the silver-white moon: "If you don't like to see it, just don't look at it. Why bother whether it is big or small." There was a hint of impatience in his light blue eyes.