Let's go to Tang.

Wu Si, Shu and Zhang Tong are in high autumn, and the empty mountains are not flowing.

Jiang Yue wept for Motome's sadness, while Ping Li was playing China.

Kunshan jade broken Fengming, hibiscus crying, Xianglan laughing.

The cold light melts in front of the twelve gates, and the twenty-three silk moves the purple emperor.

Nu Wa makes up the sky by refining stones, and the stones break the ground to stir up the autumn rain.

Dream into the holy mountain to teach the gods, and the old fish dance with the waves.

Wu Mian leans against the laurel tree, showing his feet and flying obliquely to wet cold rabbits.