This was the first time Tao Qian walked into Jiangnan, but Jiangnan had appeared in his dreams many times. When he was a child, he was drinking juice under the dry sunshine of California, facing the scorching sun, listening to his grandfather reading the poems, and touching his black and oily hair with his rough hands. His eyes showed the taste of nostalgia. At that time, she was already imagining Jiangnan, where grass grows in April and orioles fly, and the city is full of wind.