Spring Rain in Huaizhou

“Brother Yuan, it’s raining in Huaizhou again…”

An old form of address, a new rain: ten years of missed chances between a wealthy young gentleman and a poor scholar, their fates forever out of step.

A rainy-lane romance woven from pride and tenderness, with plum rain as its beginning, silver ingots binding them together, and a string of cracked beads bringing it to a close.

“Brother Yuan, the plums are ripe…”

A love buried for twenty years becomes secret words in a new policy and the last rain in an empty house. The tart green plums ripen into a regretful poem. From then on, every rainy day brings thoughts of the one left behind…

Among all living things, I see only grass and trees. You alone are a mountain green.

The mountain stays green year after year, but you remain as you were back then.