Under the moonlight, the lonely city is surrounded by smoke and waves, making the cold wind hate it. The candles in the small building are broken and the flowers are scattered, causing Qinghan to fall asleep and the strings are broken. The string is broken, the building is empty and I am alone in the cold, leaving only a line of poetry. When I wake up, fame and wealth are all just a dream, leaving only the dim shadows of broken flowers in the moon.