Scattered wooden houses, black bricks and bluestone pavement. The bridge made of stones lay delicately across the water. After many years of vicissitudes, the traces of iron pestles and axes can be faintly discerned on the stones. People who live near the water look out from the windows. The wooden oar cut through the calmness of the water, and the shattered time was frozen on the old man's mottled face. Jiangnan is always accompanied by mist and rain. Like a light gouache, smearing the vegetation and alleys under time. The wind blows here and it's sticky. What sticks is time. Time has stopped here for a long time. The beauty of Jiangnan has stopped in the gouache of misty rain, unable to move forward. The world has changed, but what remains unchanged is the water in the south of the Yangtze River, surrounding the homes that live near the water.