In late spring in March, the rows of willow trees along the moat were all swaying in the wind, and the green waves in the river rippled in circles.
Some naughty children hit the birds on the trees with slingshots. They were so startled that large swaths of feathers fell out of the greenery.
The adult pinched the child's ears and frowned to scare him: "Little bastard, the bird by the moat is a royal bird. Who asked you to beat it? It's a good thing you didn't beat it, otherwise the official would beat you up like the Yingying of the Cheng family!"
The child was scolded and let his mother drag him back with his head hanging down.
Some people are still asking, "Who is Yingying?"
"That idiot!" Someone responded.
The man then asked, "How come I haven't seen it before?"
This time no one replied.
In late spring in March, when the grass is growing and the birds are flying and the birds are noisy and the doves are gathering together, the orioles who often lie on the edge of the stone pier under the weeping willows, with their little faces raised and smiling innocently and brightly, disappear as quietly as the yellow cranes.
Intention: Maybe she knows