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The yard is quite large, and it has been managed like a garden by the elderly over the years. When you close the gate, you will feel like a paradise. Wang Qingming said to Liu Yan, "I can listen to you sing opera and have a yard like this. What else do you want in this life?" As soon as you enter the hospital door. Wang Qingming walked into his own world. There are two worlds in Wang Qingming's heart. One world is in his writing. Over the years, he has never stopped writing plays; the other world is in this small courtyard. Although Liu Yan has been away for many days, the small courtyard is still full of her breath. In this small courtyard, flowers bloomed and fell, and Liu Yan sang one verse after another. The two of them were immersed in the world of drama, in heaven and on earth, no one knew what year it was today. Liu Yan said to him one day: "It would be great if people didn't age. That's it. I act in the plays I like and you write the plays you like." Wang Qingming said: "This man is just not as good as those flowers, plants and trees. When the flowers fade, they will bloom again, and when the branches on the trees are cut off, new ones will grow."