In the old house during the plum rainy season, the rain and mist wrapped around the withered wintersweet, and Shen Yin's lingering thoughts. After his lover passed away, the house was filled with old shadows. In front of his silent desk, he opened the indigo diary that contained the breath of his old friend. The fragrance of pine smoke and ink intertwined with the familiar cold fragrance easily evokes the tenderness and pain buried deep in my heart. Pages of yellowed paper record every bit of affection between the two of them, hiding unexplained tenderness and regret. Shen Yin traces the traces of his lover between the lines and reunites with the past. In the endless longing, he guards this attachment that spans life and death, and counts the tenderness and sadness carved into the years alone.
Intention: I don't know
