Tonight, at the invitation of the poet Wang Yipeng, I came to Nami Flowers. At the corner of the north end of Wenhua Road, there is actually such a small flower house in the forest. A bottle of blue classics and a bottle of cow two, pushing us forward into the mid-autumn night. The poet Zheng Huaibing and Professor Zhang Lizhong and I, plus a Peng brother, gathered enough for four people to play a round, and drank it. I sighed that the autumn days were very short, saying that the past had passed, but Brother Li said that the autumn in Nanyang was still relatively long, but it was november.
Yi Pengge's flower room is known as the "Casablanca" of Nanyang, and the literati Mokeya Collection. The light rain dripped softly outside the window, and we sipped slowly in the flower room. An autumn with a faint melancholy bumped into us by the wine glass and quietly passed by.
Who can get drunk with us? Come on. There was good wine.
