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The mist and rain of Qinhuai River and the slanting alleys of black clothes cannot hide the sadness of China's land sinking and the clothes on the way to the south. The homeland of the Northern Kingdom has become a ruin, and the clanking swords of the Wuhu hang over the Yangtze River, mocking the weakness of the southerners. The wealthy nobles could only look northward in a hurry, dance on the pavilions and sing songs, and get drunk to relieve their sorrows. The style of the Wei and Jin Dynasties was like picking chrysanthemums on the east fence. The Jin Dynasty was dark and quiet, and it was in a corner. Who is willing to put down the wine bottle, abandon boasting and talking, hold a golden sword, control an iron horse, and swallow thousands of miles like a tiger? Nowadays, everyone in the world is drunk, so I have to wake up alone. Willow Yiyi, at the foot of Suzaku Street, swipe a bald pen, and write another "Execution of the Master", so that the barbarian animals will not be able to rest, and the women will lose their color. The history of the Jin Dynasty that I have written has no mountains and rivers. I just want to seal the wolf and live in Xu, lie drunk on the shore of the North Sea, and jump on the horse under the city of Qiuci. I am the minister of the Jin Dynasty.