The tide comes every morning and evening, like the island's breath. Qiyun Island has another set of rules. There is no need to ask too much about where you came from, just like there is no need to ask too much about the predecessor of each gust of wind. Islanders are more concerned about how your fishing boat harvested today and whether the jasmine under your courtyard wall should be pruned. Time has another density here. Enough for a wound to scab over quietly. Let a seed brought by the wind slowly take root into the sand. Director Lin of the hospital said that diseases on the island are different from those in the city. "The diseases in the city are urgent, but the diseases on the island are deep. To treat them, you need a different kind of patience." Therefore, the island became a tacit haven. Someone comes to heal the body's wounds. Someone comes to heal the illness in your heart. Day after day, the tide grinds the sharp past into rounded gravel, and dilutes the noisy desires into the distant horizon. It doesn't ask you why you came. It only gives you a piece of sky, a bay of sea water, and a path winding from the entrance of the hospital to the back door of the university, with wild flowers blooming along the way. The rest is up to you. Like the plants on the island that can take root in rock crevices, they slowly learn to grow towards the sun again. So, when the young doctor who smelled like disinfectant boarded the ferry. When the girl who always loved to go to the pier to sketch at sunset, with timidity hidden in her eyes, put down her paintbrush. An overly noisy piece of music in their respective lives ended quietly amidst the sound of the waves. The story of Qiyun Island always begins on the moist and calm beach after the tide recedes.
