The moon in the sky is shrouded by clouds, rendering it blurry and hazy.
This leads to the appearance of the person suddenly arriving, whose face looks indistinct, showing only a vague outline from a dozen meters away.
"In half an hour, it'll be December 31st; excited as I am, I feel like slaughtering a chicken," the person said leisurely.
Zheng Wei pondered for a while before saying, "I advise you not to slaughter the chicken. After the 31st, it's New Year's Day, so keep the chicken for more eggs."
The person continued, "Eggs aren't as tasty as chicken; pluck the feathers and smear honey, coat with mud, I'll leave half the rump for you."
"Focusing only on one's momentary gain will inevitably lead to hardship later. Better keep the old hen, let her hatch chicks for future craving."
The two bantered poetically, crafting rhymes about a nonexistent "chicken," with simple and comprehensible meaning, and rhythmic verses.
