Xia: After all, in mid-June, the scenery of the West Lake is different from that at four o'clock. The next day, the lotus leaves are infinitely blue, and the lotus flowers are of different colors.
Autumn: People say autumn is sad and lonely. I say autumn is better than spring. A crane is rowing on a clear cloud, which brings poetry to Bixiao.
Winter: There are no birds in the mountains, no footprints in the thousands of roads, a boat, a bamboo cloak, and an old man fishing in the cold Jiang Xue.