The dusk is gradually approaching, and the pale moon is light and shining.

The lanterns come on.

Since when did black velvet cease to be the color of night?

Since when has night been no longer able to hide one’s loneliness?

Since when did the city that never sleeps cease to be a legend?

The water surface of West Lake is calm on a winter night. Crimson, bright gold, silver... the faint colored lights in the distance render the night reddish, outlining the vague edges of the West Lake. In the haze, one can still see the trembling reflection of the arch bridge. Is that the broken bridge?

On such an evening, with such a lake surface, I would like to be like the ancients, rowing a boat in the middle of the lake, quietly facing the evening breeze, and drinking under the moonlight. Like Zhang Ji who failed the exam, listening to the ancient bells in Hanshan Mountain and mooring on the maple bridge at night, drinking like a poet and riding the wind back home, even if he is as poor as Du Fu, the tranquility at this moment is also the enjoyment of the soul, far away from the dark political struggle and the broken rivers and mountains. However, time has passed, and the once glorious and glorious history has become a trace of ink on the yellowed pages.

The breeze supports the weak willows, and I sit by the lake and look at each other.

On the right, pedestrians are leaning on each other in twos and threes. On the left, Su Di faced each other in silence.

Can’t remember how we found this place.

I can’t remember when we sat here in silence.

Can’t remember how we started the conversation.

I listened quietly and watched the moon rise little by little. Be a listener, listen to the ups and downs of your voice, listen to your eloquent speech, and listen to another life.

Xihu and I are enjoying listening.

You said that this is just the inner lake of the West Lake. I was surprised to think that the real West Lake should be endless... In the past, I just wandered around like a casual glance, but I have never stared at her so seriously. At this point, I have just begun to understand Xizi's long-lasting attraction to literati and poets. Her silent demeanor is so dignified but not rigid, so elegant but not frivolous. The talented person has a keen sense of beauty. Dongpo praised her that "light makeup and heavy makeup are always suitable." The simple and elegant makeup at this moment is like a fairy relegated to the world. So, when she puts on the gorgeous makeup, how dazzling she will be...

You talked about the university, the majors that I have never heard of, and your future... I don’t know how you learned this, and I don’t know that you are so different from me. The world has two levels, I am on one end, and you happen to be on the other end. I never plan the future in such detail, I just conceive a rough outline, because the future is always unknown. As for you, it seems that what you like to do most is to keep planning.

You say you believe in fate and fate. These illusory things may really exist, at least we met so wonderfully and even became friends. I still can't understand how people from two worlds know each other. Maybe it's just because you are good at speaking and I like to listen.

Sitting and talking for about four hours, I suddenly didn’t realize it.

The restaurant is brightly lit.

People around him kept leaving and coming, and the number of people coming gradually became less than the number of people leaving, until there were only two or three... a little girl of four or five years old, a middle-aged man with thinning hair, a plump middle-aged woman, a girl carrying four or five bags... arrived and left, in a hurry.

I forgot where to start, but I just vaguely remember that we talked about the library, Li Ao, English, personality, and many things... I don’t know when, I changed from a listener to a narrator. Even though it is not as gorgeous as you, and not as surging as yours, I began to feel the charm of speech. It turns out that I am not as resistant to speech as I imagined. Maybe I just lack the courage.

It rains lightly at night, soaking my clothes, and I sleep with the city.

The rain is falling.

I don’t know when it started to rain, hitting my hair densely, making it warm and moist.

Walking in the rain has always been my dream, but I didn’t expect it to come true at this moment. It seems that this way you can get closer to those suave poets, as if you can smell the fragrance they leave in the air.

Xi Zi has been forgotten behind us. I don’t know whether she is watching our backs or waiting for Xi He’s dragon chariot to fly over her...

The twilight is no longer, the night is dark. Hangzhou is sleeping.