With a pure heart, turn the pages of time. Your mood, too, becomes as pure as a late-blooming flower, a lush leaf. Reading poetry under the moonlight, even the air seems to carry a fragrance. Those emotions hidden within the moonlight will bring you a strange stirring.

"I love the moon, I love standing under the moonlight and gazing at it. It's to wait for a companion to comfort my lonely soul, to settle my thoughts, and to soothe my lonely feelings!" said Xu Que's wife.

Listening to Ha Gang and Ping Yao's pedantic writing, Xu Que, as their husband, couldn't be outdone and chimed in, "I love watching the simple moon unfold in the peaceful moonlit night, then fall silent again and again. With the fragrance of books filling my heart and moonlight bathing me, a sense of tranquility is enough to ward off the lights of countless homes. Whether it's longing or melancholy, under the moonlight, you can always find peace and sweetness. The moonlight is as clear as if it were washed, and the autumn wind silently leaves behind traces. There is the vicissitude of fallen petals covering the ground, and the quiet beauty of fallen leaves. Scatter your dreams in the moonlight, without lamenting loneliness or yearning for extravagance. In the crisp morning, or on a moonlit night, follow the path of memory and see the flowers blooming there in harmony."

"Ah... the moon always hides many stories you don't know, nurturing a flower in lonely days, a wisp of fragrance. I don't know how many autumns this is, the wispy clouds still drift lazily across the sky. Those shallow days of the past, like poems recited in dreams, still exude a lingering charm under the window, before the flowers, in the dappled lamplight. Those unspoken thoughts, those hearts thinner than yellow flowers, have been entrusted to the passing years, entrusted to hope," Xu Que continued.

In truth, Xu Que didn't know what he had just said. Since Ha Gang and Ping Yao had spoken to him, he had to repeat himself. So he said again, "With hope, life becomes beautiful and fulfilling. I've always known that there are no 'what ifs' in this world; no one can obtain the outcome of a dream from a hypothetical scenario. Youth fades, years pass, and time flows on, yet all remains as silent as ever. Those past events that I thought I could forget, I haven't forgotten a single one. Another year of the full moon at Mid-Autumn Festival; I bury the dust of the past in the moonlight, quietly waiting. Waiting for a certain day when it will sprout, blossom, and bear fruit again."

Dreams lie in the distance. Shouldering a backpack, I wander alone under the moon. Unbound by time, unhindered by space. With moonlight, you will find that path, traverse the deep stone alley, knock on that vermilion door, and enter the palace you yearn for. Jade palaces and jeweled towers, shimmering moonlight, listen to a beautiful melody, sip a cup of steaming green tea, and then write down your jumbled thoughts.

Words have a life of their own. Lines of text, poems, are like seeds buried in the soil, which, on a moonlit night, will sprout lush shoots and grow quietly.

On moonless days, it seems time has been wasted for many years. The gentle breeze has turned countless pages of poetry, and the flying snow has adorned countless miles of landscape. But you haven't gone far; you stand within the traces of yesterday, walking towards this life.

At this moment, although everyone could understand what Xu Que, Ha Gang, and Ping Yao were saying, they couldn't comprehend their rambling, disjointed conversation! The more they listened, the more confused they became.

Xu Que continued, "Ah...you are not a passerby, not a wandering flower. Your pure smile, your splendid youth, still reveal a touch of calm and composure in your eyes. You have forgotten much of the path you have walked. But there are still a few unforgettable imprints, seeping into your heart, warming those quiet years."

Everything needs no effort. You are simply a woman who scatters her dreams into the moonlight. Dreams remain, flowers bloom. The fragrance of ink lingers, I offer you my brush, a single stroke of ink can sketch a journey through time.

"Send your dreams to the moon. Let the cool moonlight soften the fading scenery, let the years become clear in the moonlight, and blur in the clarity. Choose a serene evening, bring a peaceful heart to each scene, feel the world's prosperity and indifference, and then gaze at the full moon. Dreams are scattered in the moonlight."

How much sorrow can pessimism bear, and how much happiness can joy bring? The future is yet to come, the past is gone; why punish today's beauty with yesterday's mistakes? Only those with tears are truly complete. Lower your desires, listen to your inner voice, savor the scenery along the way, and walk more on the road to the future; you will eventually reach the shore of success.

Impermanence is ever-present, like our meeting one moment and our parting at some crossroads the next. Some are born here, some die here. We entrust our lives to others, thinking we keep the sorrow for ourselves, yet we inadvertently hurt others. A troubled heart falls into a walled city; some prick themselves to get out, while others scramble to squeeze in. Running against the wind, the scene is chaotic, a sorrowful memory, like a bottomless corridor. In the cold night, standing by the window, whose room is empty? The road ahead is shrouded in mist; only by mustering courage, letting go of fear and doubt, and striding forward as if it were the first time, will you be surprised to find with each step that the next step is so clear. Xu Que cleared his throat and said.

"In pursuit of the beautiful view from the rooftop, it has always been filled with curiosity and longing. In search of its own dream, it has experienced contradictions and sorrows, disappointments and melancholy, but its unwavering will will eventually bring it glory and growth. This is the little ivy's dream, but it is the dream we are about to pursue, perhaps this dream can be called faith."

I have a dream: I often walk alone, forgetting the way I came and unable to see the direction I'm going, but I know that this road leads to the other side, a side blooming with flowers. So I believe that no matter how slowly I walk the path I've chosen, even alone, I will finish it with a smile.

Deviating from expectations, bound by ideals, tied to material possessions, experiencing pain and sorrow—I call this reality. Some things that seem to hold you back are precisely for the sake of today, tomorrow, and the long years to come, so that what truly belongs to you will ultimately be yours. Sometimes, what you think is your destination is merely a transition; what you think is a transition is actually your destination. When Heaven closes a door, it will naturally open another window—perhaps this window is called aspiration. Interpreting reality is about understanding and comprehension, applying that wisdom to life. We habitually enjoy the often painful endings, yet we complain about the profound realization in our old age, the growth we once experienced. This kind of life is common, and I am no exception. But as long as you walk in the footsteps of your predecessors, you will find a new world. Some call it innovation, but I think inheritance is more fitting. The road ahead is narrow, but the road ahead is long. The reality is that you can only go down; there's no going back. If this feels cruel, remember the spring: the greater the pressure, the greater the reaction. The trough is the beginning of the peak.