Meeting and parting are such ordinary fate.
We miss each other by chance, we encounter each other at a good time, and even those small thoughts have to go back and forth thousands of times, lingering and unable to let go or leave them behind.
It always stays and flows, turning into a shallow glass of wine. It should be a dull blue and green, but certainly not the crispness of jade.
It is also called "Dew Lotus Withered Green Fan".
The hill once said leisurely, "The lotuses are dew and the green fans are withered every day, and the smoke and water in Fentang are as clear as practice."
A day in the mountains, a thousand years in the world.