In the twelfth lunar month of winter, a solitary little Taoist priest practiced his sword in the snow.
"You are the only young master of the Tang family."
"Xiao Xu, don't blame your father..."
"How could Tang Xu be injured? He is the number one among the younger generation!"
He carries everyone's hopes,
But no one cared about the scars under his heavy crown.
Only the little fox jumped up on his shoulder and licked the little Taoist priest's face, which was salty.
"Ying ying ying. (I'm always here.)"
In March of spring, the world-famous Taoist priest was alone in his boat.
"Taoist!"
He suddenly looked back and felt like old friends at the first sight.
"I'm back."
He caught up with him with a smile, his eyebrows set in a book.
PS: The author is new, writing for the first time. The introduction is rough, please move to the main text. I am a college student and busy with my studies, so please forgive me.
Intention: Holding hands, we are home all over the world.
