From the rivers and lakes in the snow, there are always a few beads as a foil. Those bright gold and jade that are covered by yellow dust are like grains of grain. If they are poured into the world's granary, it will never be able to find the lingering charm of the wind.
And what I want to do is to let those beads shine again, to oil those beads that have never had a happy ending. They may be imaginary and unreal, or they may be microcosms of the present world, one chapter, one line, one bead, so that there are still a few in the world who can remember - On the other side of the bead curtain, there are many beads like Xu Fengnian, all shining brightly.
Intention: pay tribute to that river and lake.