The Shadow of Forgotten River

Deep in the depths of the Forgotten River, there is a teahouse. The fire in the furnace never goes out day and night, and the tea soup remains the same for thousands of years. Meng Po, dressed in green, stands holding a pot. Where the red rope is tied on the wrist is unknown. I just feel that it is tightening day by day, as if there is an invisible hand, quietly tightening it in no one's place. The teahouse has no name, but passers-by call it "Cha Liang". It's not the tea that's cool, it's the heart that's cool.