The falling frost is like shining, the morning frost is like job's tears, the sorrow of separation and farewell, the memories of the past are like tides, but the passing years are like water, the years are like songs, the flowers are still blooming and people are gone, and the passing years are destroying each other. We swim in the sea of people, trying to put down roots. The attraction and repulsion alternate with each other, like stars and quicksand. And when we are injured, at the place and time of injury, how do we comfort and be comforted, confess and be accused?
What kind of melancholy does that sad sleeve thrown towards the sky convey to that era of talented men and beauties wearing red makeup and white sleeves?
Lin Yiren, with her tearless pain and the sadness of parting, helps us find the long-lost fragrance in the feeling of loss...