Corridor, Corridor... As soon as I think of this name, I can't help but enter a certain artistic conception. I hung these pottery pendants in the wind, and when the soft wind blew over, I had the strength to push them together, making a clear and quiet sound. I seem to see a picture of a Jiangnan woman holding a book and reading quietly in the corridor in the early morning when the birds are singing and the flowers are fragrant. On a moonlit night like water, literati sit alone on the corridor, drinking wine and enjoying the elegance of watching flowers bloom