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As the saying goes, if you are ignorant, you will plant seeds in the clear. After Li Yangzai threw the rice into the rice field, he turned around and hurried home. Before he entered the house, he heard his six-year-old grandson shouting one after another, "I'm done with my voice, I'm done with my voice." From a distance, Li Yangzai saw this little guy squatting under some old trees in front of the house with his butt stuck out and a pile of feces under his butt, shouting and playing with a small bug on the ground without raising his head. Li Yangzai also saw his father, who was in his seventies, sitting at the gate and playing with a pair of steel balls to practice his hand strength. His eyes were looking at the peach blossom tree on the side of the house. Like an old scholar who had learned a lot, he sang with a very expressive voice: " Last year, in this door, the peach blossoms reflected each other's faces. I don't know where they are, but the peach blossoms are still smiling in the spring breeze." Li Yangzai dismissed his father's detached attitude of not eating the fireworks of the world and having nothing to do with himself, and walked straight into the house.