There is a song sung with the Hui accent in Xinjiang.

Hello? . . . Where are you?

Didn't you say you were coming to Xinjiang?

Oh, it's far from Salem. As soon as the plane took its seat, it came with a whoosh.

Hey, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, wait for me. I haven't seen you for more than 20 years. I only heard that Xinjiang is good, but I don't know Nisha and changing the earth. Personally, it seems to spread quickly.

Sa? Don't believe me, let me tell you. Oh, come on, come on, listen to this:

You people, you listen to people's random rumors that we wear fur coats in the morning and gauze in the afternoon, eat watermelons in the stove, ride donkeys into the store, and braid our hair. Pin a knife to your waist. Knife is a flower hat for everyone. All the food is sheep, and there are spoons all over the street. Take a bag if you need anything, and it will roll to Hongshan.

Is this it?