Sir,


Heaven does not bring forth useless people, and Earth does not grow grass without a name.
Even the Yellow River still has days when its waters grow clear—how could anyone be without a time of good fortune?
Snow weighs down the cold plum blossoms; lie on hard firewood and endure bitterness, poised to await the splendid hour.
One day, when the wind rises together, you’ll soar straight up—rising ninety thousand li.
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