In the morning, Xi Murong's poetry collection, I am faced with an endless blankness. Will you wave to me beyond the emptiness? Will you appear from somewhere when I have no one to turn to?
From last night to this morning, we have walked together, that silent journey of the soul, in two mutually resonant spaces, to evaluate Cao Cao's essay.
In the morning, I will walk through streets and familiar yet strange crossroads, where my hesitant footprints remain.
Finally, I stand at the turning point of the stairs, not noticing the looks of people going up and down, I just can't figure out what is up and what is down, where is my destination?
In the early morning, standing on the boundary between night and day, I look around.
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