The thread ... withers at the brightest moment

Yang Huilan reclined in his chair.

Yang: Please come in.

Yang: It's you. Put it there (big mouth hesitates) What happened? Anything else?

Li: Nothing. (Shy) Do you like flowers?

Yang: Will you be angry if you say you don't like it?

Li: No.

Yang: I don't like it very much

Li: OK, I'll plant it back for him later.

Yang: Forget it, forget it. Withering at the brightest time may be fate.

Li: You also believe in fate. I tell you, I believe it, too. I use mahjong tiles to tell my fortune, or I'll calculate one for you.

Yang: Thank you. I believe in fate, but I'm not superstitious.

Made a gesture of please.

Li: Hey, I know this gesture. (Go, turn around) There is one last sentence. You are more beautiful than the moon tonight ... the moon.