In the morning of early autumn, the mist fills the air, and the small town in the south of the Yangtze River seems to be immersed in a light ink painting, quiet and hazy. In the bluestone alley in the north of the town, the sound of soft footsteps echoed, mixed with the coolness of morning dew. The sycamore tree at the entrance of the alley was quietly showing new buds, and the branches and leaves were covered with wet dew, reflecting the morning light.
Jiang Yan stood at the end of the alley, her eyes clear but with a touch of sadness. She was wearing a simple and elegant blue linen shirt and skirt, and a gauze coat embroidered with light lotus draped over her slender shoulders, like a beautiful orchid in an ink painting. After being away from her hometown for a long time, she returned from Beicheng. In her heart, she felt both affection for her hometown and some unspeakable heaviness.
