In an instant, the wind will set the color of clouds and ink, and the desert will turn dark in autumn.

After a while, the wind stopped, the dark clouds were like ink, and the autumn sky was gloomy and foggy, and suddenly it was dark. The cloth covered for many years was cold and hard, like iron. Joule couldn't sleep well and the quilt was trampled by his feet. Just when the poet sighed helplessly, the sky changed again, which was a precursor to the storm. The words "later" were dipped in thick ink, showing a hazy.