How to spend your later years? When we grow old, this is how we'll live out our retirement in peace

In front of the house and throughout the yard, plant flowers you love, and raise a few pretty chickens and ducks.

Dig out a pond, and fill it with lotus and fry.

Behind the house, plant a few patches of greens and melons and fruit, set up a trellis, and let grapes climb all over the wall.

If the yard feels too small, we'll rent another 1 mu and 3 fen of land, sowing in spring and harvesting in autumn.

The two of us might get lonely, so we'll keep a big dog and a fat cat for company.

A bowl of porridge, a dish, a cat, a dog, and one person by your side, this is probably the everlasting love that people the world over seek!

In the early morning, push open the courtyard gate, and gaze at the sun still at the foot of the mountain.

You push the cart to town to buy vinegar and oil, while I sweep leaves and chop firewood at home, waiting for your return.

In idle hours, you tend the flowers and plants, I drink tea and paint.

In the evening, we keep watch under the tree by the gate, setting out sunflower seeds and green tea.

The night sky over the small town is pitch black and cloudless, every star blinking its eyes.

The spring, summer, autumn and winter of the small town come and go, and we too grow older year by year.

As soon as the spring breeze turns warm, the rose bushes all burst into bloom, and the yard is full of floral fragrance.

The pear tree by the gate is covered in white blossoms; standing beneath it, a sudden breeze blows, and pear blossoms cling all over your hair bun.

Summer blazes, cicadas drone on, yet the lotus in the pond blooms at its fullest under the bright sun.

Holding a book and sitting idly indoors, sipping a cup of green tea you brewed, and now and then a few croaks of frogs drift in through the window.

Autumn arrives, cool winds rise on all sides, our lotus pond has withered, and the pear tree by the gate has turned yellow too.

A night of drizzling autumn rain, dark clouds still hanging at the horizon, so we may as well go back under the covers, and to hell with the world's troubles!

In winter the cold wind bites, snow falls thick outside the window, and the yard has lost the vitality of spring.

You and I hold each other by the fire, chatting about the everyday gossip of the village, while the cat and dog beside us doze off.