"Uncle Pan, we're here" he said, and the carriage slowly stopped.
"Yes"
Stepping into the small temple in early spring, the ground is bathed in fragrance, the wind blows on the cheeks, the lips curl up, and the peach color is too sweet.
This was the first spring after his death, and I didn't expect it to be the same as it was six years ago.
"Miss, it's getting late"
"Yeah."
She pushed open the door and walked in. She had never been so familiar in her life.