Zhang Jiaya 155筝絖 799589篋肴肢 菴莉
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In the last month of summer, the sun is in the willow, the fire is in the dusk, and the Kui is in the morning. The days are Bing and Ding. Its emperor is Yan Emperor, and its god is Zhurong. Its insects are feathers. Its sound is Zheng, and its rhythm is Lin Zhong. Its number is seven. Its taste is bitter, and its smell is burnt. Its offering is to the stove and the lungs. The warm wind begins to arrive, crickets live on the wall, eagles learn, and rotten grass becomes fireflies. The emperor resides in the right side of Mingtang, rides on a red road, drives a red horse, carries a red flag, wears a red robe, and wears red jade. He eats beans and chickens, and his utensils are high and coarse. He orders fishermen to kill dragons and catch alligators, and climb turtles and catch sea turtles. He orders marsh people to collect wood and reeds.
When Zhong Hui finished writing four books of essays, he really wanted to let Ji Gong see them. He placed it in his arms, and when he was ready, he was afraid of the difficulty, so he dared not take it out. He threw it far away outside the door and then turned around and ran away.
There was a morning auspicious event in Lu, but no one sang. Zilu laughed at him. The Master said, "You, you blame others, and never stop? The three-year mourning period is already long." Zilu left, and the Master said, "How long? If it lasts more than a month, it will be good."
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亥鐚篋篏紊蕾臥鐚2025-03-23鐚
贋井狗器2025-03-23
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