The waves are at the end of the world, full of dust and sand.
The clouds are deep and foggy and windy.
Thousands of miles of mountains and rivers, picturesque, ambition like iron inspiration.
Years of cold to go far, blue waves rippled in the river sky.
The red sun is shining, spraying under the thin dome.
Morning dew died, and the outside of the station was fragrant.
Ever remembered? Yesterday's yellow flowers.
Over the years, let him blossom.
Fight for the odds, the red fades and the green fades, and the red dust is a song.
The ancient road is broken, the west wind is thin, and the lights are envied.
Yellow clay pot, dry wood slow boiling, cloth coarse tea.
![Why were the professional sheep farmers of the Western Han Dynasty selected as the eleven heroes of the Qilin Pavilion? Su Wu's life was full of loyalty[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)