Mao Xiaotong held an umbrella in her hand, with a graceful figure and slightly raised willow eyebrows. Her eyes were full of affection, with a just right smile, and her every move was full of charm. By the West Lake, there are oil paper umbrellas, a stream of misty rain, and a boat full of lovers. The legend of Xu Xian and Bai Niangzi began during the Qingming Festival when it rained. The drizzle is fleeting, and people travel hastily, but those who are destined will eventually meet, just as those who miss will also meet.
