Thinking and thinking, the memories in his mind welled up like someone twisting open a tap, pouring forth experiences that weren't his own.,Xiao Quan glanced at the watchdog at the gate, with a pointed muzzle, flat ears standing upright. It was clearly a Chinese native breed. It seemed that this era had much to do with ancient China, but Xiao Quan still wasn't sure what dynasty it was.,He gazed at the bright moon in the sky, and was reminded of a particularly fitting poem. He couldn't help but recite: "Before my bed, the bright moon shines, / Like frost on the ground it seems to be. / I lift my head to see the moon high, / And lower my head to think of home."。