Li Ping Konghou Yin · Li He Wu Si, Shutong and Zhang Gaoqiu, the empty mountains are condensed with clouds that are not flowing. Jiang E cries about the sorrow of women in bamboo, while Li Ping plays the Chinese harp. Kunshan's broken jade phoenix screams, hibiscus weeps and dew fragrant orchid smiles. Cold light melted in front of the twelve doors, and twenty-three silk threads moved the purple emperor. Where Nuwa refines stones to mend the sky, the stones break the sky and make the autumn rain startle. I dreamed of entering the sacred mountain to teach the goddess, and the old fish danced the thin dragon dance. Wu Zhi sleepless and leans against the osmanthus tree, flying wet and cold rabbits sideways with bare feet. Listening to Master Ying playing the harp Han Yu, talking to your children in a friendly way, expressing gratitude and resentment to you. Suddenly the situation became tense and the warriors went to the enemy's field. Floating clouds and catkins have no roots, and the sky and the earth are vast and far away. A flock of birds chirped noisily, and suddenly a solitary phoenix was seen. If you climb too high, you can't get any higher, if you lose ground, your strength will plummet. I have two ears to sigh, but I don't know how to listen to the silk bamboo. After hearing Master Ying's playing, he got up and sat aside. Pushing his hands to stop suddenly, his clothes were wet with tears. Master Ying is sincere and capable, but you can't put ice and coal into my intestines!

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