It rains heavily and the vegetation in my old hometown is deep. I heard that you are always alone. The mottled city gate is surrounded by old tree roots. What echoed on the stone slab was, wait.
It rains heavily and the vegetation in my old hometown is deep. I heard that you are still guarding the lonely city. The sound of the pastoral flute on the outskirts of the city fell on the wild village. Fate takes root, it's us.
An old tune. Singing through thousands of years of waiting.
When they stepped into the dilapidated ancient city again, they found that she had disappeared in the distant sound of the reed flute, and her footprints could no longer be found.