One bowl moistens the throat, two bowls are lonely and boring, and three bowls are heartbroken, but there are only five thousand volumes of words.
Four bowls of sweat, life is not smooth, scattered to the pores.
Five bowls of bones and muscles are clear, and six bowls are immortal.
I can't eat seven bowls, but I feel the wind blowing under my arm.
Penglai Mountain, where is it? Yuchuanzi wants to ride this cool breeze home.
Immortals descended from the mountains, occupying a lofty position and being isolated from the wind and rain.
Take tens of billions of lives and fall on the top of a cliff to suffer!
I asked the whole people for advice, and how did I get along in the end?