One hundred thousand heavenly soldiers are stationed in the sky tower, and the prince in the tower is playing with flying gulls. The white clouds go leisurely with the wind, and the affairs of the world stay in the palm of your hand. The Xinghan Wanli leads to a secluded place, and the four universes sing a boat. Flowers fly willows. The mountains and rivers still remember the old China. In the past, thousands of autumns have passed. The bright moon should know thousands of miles, and I will paint countless sorrows for you.