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There was the same old cold inside the house - like every day.

Papa was sitting on the table, with the newspaper in his hand, but his eyes were fixed on the tiffin - as if the time of the tiffin was more important to him than every word of the newspaper.Brothers and sisters were running here and there, and from downstairs, Mummy's voice echoed,

"Get up, it will be late!"

I looked at the ceiling with sleepy eyes.

There are some mornings... which never change. ...

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The dojo is located in Yunzhong Mountain, and there are halls and fields.

Sitting under the ginkgo tree in leisure time, looking at the dust and clouds in the distance,

Hoe the ground and listen to the sound of springs, forge swords by the fire,

Food and clothing are up to oneself and God,

I don’t know the end of the cold year;

When the robbery comes, you have to go to the lower reaches of the mountain to watch the bitterness and sweetness of the world.

It’s hard to keep injustice in your eyes, and you don’t like to show it in front of others.

The gourd of wine at the waist is deep, and the light of the sword behind the back is cold,

Not for fame, not for money,

Be a free spirit.

—————

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