Wonderland is not a fantasy, it falls with the wind in the human world/Xiaodongjiang

The morning mist is like a sweet dream, all around is silent, the crescent moon is like a hook, and on the quiet river surface, a layer of milky white mist spreads out evenly, thick and heavy, like a soft velvet cotton quilt, covering the murmuring Xiaodongjiang tightly, looking warm and cozy; it's also like a surprise snowfall that quietly descends in the middle of the night, waiting to give the waking Xiaodongjiang an unexpected surprise. And the people on the shore, constantly pressing the camera shutter, keep silent and still, for fear of disturbing that hazy dream. As the weather brightens and the temperature rises, the calm mist begins to float and disperse, first like faint light smoke, curling and swaying, spreading around, then like thin cicada wings, dancing in the air, and later, it turns into white clouds, drifting and elusive, rendering the mountains and forests on both sides into elegant ink paintings of the Song and Yuan dynasties, with appropriate shades of light and dark.