The Sky Wind Blows the Dream of Green Colored Glaze

Some people have searched for the fairy capital in the sky, and some have chased the wind ninety thousand miles away. The water in Qinglidu is as cold as glass, the lanterns in the pavilion warm the evening breeze, and the bamboos on the shore shake to pieces the past. It turns out that the deepest bond is not the rapid rise of 90,000 miles, but this short journey after returning to the ordinary. Wherever the wind blows, it's like waking up from a dream. Only the water itself decides which way to flow. Some people have let go of their obsessions here, and some have picked up other people's reflections here. If the wind doesn't stop, the dream will stop. The ferry will always be wet, always waiting for the next empty boat. This is the spiritual world. Some people use silence to build dynasties, while others use noise to fill the cracks. The strong carve their names into the wind, while the weak cannot even rent an echo. Kindness is very expensive and must be exchanged for real pain; malice is very cheap and sometimes it is just an unspoken apology. My name is Chen Shishi, I seem to know everything, and I seem to know nothing. In this era, we have nothing, and we are high-spirited.