Speed ​​And Starlight: Song Yuqixf1 Driver

Grandma smiled, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were like blooming chrysanthemums. She pulled me into her arms, just like she did when I was little. Her embrace was still so warm, with a faint scent of soap locust. The sound of rain, grandma's heartbeat, and the barking of dogs in the distance were all exactly as they were in memory. Now, every time it rains, I make myself a cup of hot tea, sit in front of the window and close my eyes. Accompanied by the sound of rain, I seemed to have returned to that small town in the south of the Yangtze River, and to the courtyard of my grandma's house. I saw the small puddles on the bluestone, the red fruits on the pomegranate tree, the little girl watching the rain under the eaves, and the always-smiling grandmother beside her. Rainy days are the love letters written by the sky to the earth. And those memories related to rainy days are the gentlest poems written to me by the years. They are wet, with the fragrance of earth, the sweet fragrance of osmanthus, and the warmth of grandma's palms, and will always be treasured in the softest place in my heart.