More than 1600 years later, we can still breathe the spring of the ninth year of Yonghe. The day is bright and clear, the gentle breeze is harmonious, and looking up at the vast universe and down at the grandeur of all things, one’s eyes roam freely and the mind is unrestrained, fully enjoying the auditory and visual delights, which is truly joyful. In fact, human life is like the falling flowers of late spring—no matter how brilliant, they will vanish in the blink of an eye without a trace. Flowers will bloom again, as if an endless cycle, continuing their previous lives when the spring breeze rises again. Therefore, those flowers are worth envying. But whenever the greedy silkworms suck the sticky, sweet sap from mulberry leaves, beginning a journey about to start, the living people before our eyes may no longer be in this world. Only the towering mountains, lush forests, tall bamboos, and rushing streams reflect the eternal, unchanging landscape—timeless and majestic. Behind their grandeur and prosperity lies eternal desolation. What touches the heart is beauty, but also this sense of desolation. The "Lanting Xu" is a "contradiction," and isn’t human itself such a "contradiction"?—For humans, death and rebirth, despair and hope, detachment and engagement, confusion and enlightenment, happen simultaneously or alternate in life. In any case, they accompany each other, inseparable like conjoined twins, never abandoning each other. We are all lonely beings; only those with the same frequency can see the unspoken elegance within. Believe that there must be people in this world who can feel each other. In this vast world, because of this precious understanding, they can truly know and warm each other.