In the past, Zhuang Zhou dreamed of a butterfly. When the butterfly returned to Zhuang Zhou, the butterfly became mysterious among everyone. There is a rumor in the secret book that when a butterfly flies over the green mountains, the water vapor contaminated in the clouds and mist gathers on its wings. After seven or forty-nine days of flight, the only drop of dew left on the wings that has not disappeared. When the first ray of spring sunshine shines on the wings, the dew slips off. If it is lucky enough to drip on the ground, inkstone will grow underground, grind it into powder and add water, and you can write excellent stories about beautiful women and talents; if it does not fall on the ground, it floats in the air, and those who hear it can evoke hidden sad things, make them cry, and passersby laugh when they see it.
Intent: romance; fantasy