Bailuzhou, night, the evening wind howls.
The shore is covered with silver light, and the wanton rays of moonlight complement the pure white sandy beach.
The post pavilion is covered with obvious mottled spots eroded by wind and sand. A rotten wooden boat tied next to the pavilion is floating under the rolling waves. The boat passengers are no longer there, many years ago. The boatman is still there, maybe. Everything is quiet under the lonely sky.
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