When the red maple leaves fade, the palace wall becomes one year older.
Four women stood in the corridor, their plain clothes stained by the dusk light, their backs facing different directions.
Someone is guarding an unextinguished palace lantern, waiting for someone who will not come back;
Some people hide half a volume of broken poems and recite a feeling that they dare not express openly;
Someone is holding an old hairpin, remembering a dream of being crushed by a palace wall;
Some people look at the returning geese on the horizon, hoping for a ray of wind to drift out of the forbidden city.
They came in from different doors and stood on the same corridor, but never really looked at each other.
The late autumn wind swept the fallen leaves over the bluestone steps, burying all the unsaid words into the mottled walls of the palace.
Intention: Even if they are in a deep palace, strangers and speechless, every woman has her own obsession and return, her own joys and sorrows, and her own life.