The Dust and Mist Dispersed

Dreaming about yellow beams——The moonlight reflects on the face, and with lingering sorrow in my heart, I reach out to burn agarwood. In order to make up for the broken heart and love, I take a pillow of yellow rice. The sound of storytelling reaches the dreamland, and the stars outside the window are as usual. In the story, the railings have not changed from their old appearance. The old man under the tree is singing again about who has passed by, Whose soul is buried in a Buddhist niche in the desert? Under the red dust pavilion, I will never forget your red-stained plain gauze back. In front of Wuyin Pavilion, whose blood blooms with fragrance. With a pillow of yellow rice, the scholar lost his frivolous spirit. In the dream, he was fine, but the painter transformed into a werewolf.