Sword Embroidery Jiangnan

When I was studying in the evening, I looked up and saw the stars in the sky. I fell into the misty Jiangnan and became Chen Yan, a young man living under someone else's roof. A rusty sword that had been put aside for eight years, twenty copper coins bought a half-life obsession; I met Celadon, a girl in Tsing Yi, by a well in an alley. The days unfolded slowly amid the rainy season, plantains, morning exercises and hot porridge. There are no peerless martial arts, no gold medals, and no grandeur of Ruyi Jianghu. I wielded the sword clumsily day after day, fighting against my inferiority complex and confusion, and also received a heart that did not envy gold and silver, but only cherished the day and night. The memories of the two worlds overlap, and a young heart slowly falls to the ground. The rusty sword has not yet been sharpened, but Jiangnan has its own gentleness. Someone is waiting for me to get up in the morning to practice swordplay, and I am waiting for the ordinary fireworks every year.