The rain hit the green tiles and the hostas shattered. When Lin Wan opened her eyes, she was already in a small courtyard in the south of the Yangtze River in the Republic of China. She became the pretty young lady of the Lin family, falling asleep to the sound of Pingtan and waking up to the scent of osmanthus. The moonlight at the entrance of the alley is like frost every year, illuminating the brand new songbook in her hand, illuminating the gentle brows and eyes of the young man, and also illuminating the undercurrent of the impending troubled times. When the turbulent times hit, she held the white plum jade hairpin, watched the fireworks in the moonlight, and met a man with a white head.
