"There is bright moonlight in front of the bed. I suspect it is frost on the ground. I look up at the bright moon and lower my head to think about my hometown." Lin Jianping's magnetic voice lingered in the silence at this moment, which seemed particularly pleasant to the ears. It gave people a very special feeling when listening to it, as if it had surpassed the enjoyment brought by ordinary poetry recitation.
In fact, it would be difficult for her to compose a poem by herself, but it would not be difficult to ask her to recite a shorter poem. Although her grades in school were very average, she still remembered this poem by Li Bai, but she had forgotten the name of the poem. But now she didn't need to remember it.