This time, the breeze and the bright moon don't look back at the prose.

The old trees at the head of the village are exposed, and they sit on the boat humming songs and survive in the river bend filled with morning mist. Looking back at the faint village, a few inaudible sighs suddenly drifted away.

It is the season for the growth of Yingfeicao, and it is also the season for the growth of Yingfeicao. I tore off a piece and put it on. Before dawn, the shadow of Dai Ying in the distant mountains was still hazy, far away from me in the mist. I've been here for a while, and now I have to go somewhere else.

I have enjoyed the spring breeze and rain in different places, singing quietly to cicadas in summer, counting leaves in autumn, waiting for winter to go and spring to come, and I have seen the scenery of ancient paintings. The long years have been spent by me, peaceful and simple, but worthy of a dream. The mountain is far away, and I don't know what my hometown was like in the old society. Is it stone pillars and carved beams, attic windows or locked doors, overgrown with weeds and empty buildings?

I don't like playing horseshoe mirror, flashy fame and fortune, rich world, only indifferent leisure time, which can be accompanied by cool breeze and bright moon. So I became a tourist in Water Stop Me, and then I sat and watched the rising clouds, the clouds in the spring water, the birds flying off the grass, the desert in the north of Saibei and the snow in the barren land, and the willow and plum rain in the south of the Yangtze River. A person has been walking for several years, and the time is quiet and silent, but it also disappears like a stream.

Upstream is my hometown. I lay on the roof, with my arms resting on pillows, and looked at the faint cool moon by moonlight. I thought about it all night, and suddenly I was crazy about the deep courtyard and the old attic porch in my memory.

All the way back day and night, through the deep pools of Zhuxi, deep valleys and mountains, rural houses, painting galleries, rugged mountain roads, bustling streets and lanes, Dai Yue wears vulgar clouds and stars, just to miss the wanton growth, the stones in front of the courtyard, the cloister and waterside pavilion, the rockery in the pond pavilion and the green grass deep courtyard; I miss going home to wash away the lead, put on my old shirt and live in peace.

The heavy stereo started in a long and quiet alley, stepping on the thin and tired moonlight on the slate road and stopping in front of a family. On the second and third stone steps, thick raspberry moss braved, the old mottled wooden door was washed away by time, and the knocker had provoked patina, suddenly telling the returnees that this ancient hometown was so empty that it had already been deeply covered by vegetation. The hand knocking at the door hung to one side and walked away. Only raspberry moss remembers who was here.

That's all.

Pack your bags, board the ferry and look around. Farewell, my hometown is Chang 'an.

Go, go, stay at home, be alone, and walk away without looking back.