The Shen family in the south of the Yangtze River had a daughter. When she was in her twenties, her family fell into decline, and she took refuge in the depths of Zhuwu by the Tiao River. One day when I was sorting through old boxes, I came across a piece of broken letter. The ink marks were all over the place but my character was hidden. It was written by an old friend who lived in the northern part of the country ten years ago. She took up her pen to reply to the letter, using the mist and rain from the south of the Yangtze River to write ink, describing the morning and dusk in the bamboo dock, and sending her feelings about the vegetation. Since then, Hongyan has passed down letters, using the ruler as a matchmaker, and each other's character can be seen in the pen and ink - she talks about the lotus breeze in the water town and the sericulture farming, and he talks about the wind and snow in the north of the Great Wall, and the cold and hardship of guarding the border. A brocade book carries the passage of time, reflecting the ups and downs of the world, from leisurely love in the boudoir to worries about family and country, from mutual acquaintances to secret thoughts. In the troubled times when the war is about to come, in the chaos of war, the joys and sorrows of half a life and the feelings of mountains and rivers are written in the space of a few feet.
