The rain from the south of the Yangtze River fell and lightly wetted the bluestone slabs. I sat in front of the window making tea, listening to the rain, writing letters, and looking at the moon - the days passed slowly by like this. This collection of essays is not about stories, but about atmosphere. It's the dusk when the alley is filled with the fragrance of osmanthus, it's the sound of the oars gliding across the water, it's the sentence I happened to read when I turned the page of the book. I hope you can find your own rain in the book.
Intention: Use the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River as the background color to write about the poetry and tenderness in daily life. In the slowed down time, learn to appreciate the blooming and falling of a flower, the coolness of a cup of tea, and the waning of the moon. Life itself is a practice worthy of careful writing.