She often thought of him at seventeen. No, she thought of them at seventeen.
Back then, the setting sun stretched like fire across a thousand miles, and the mountains blazed red with maple leaves.
Back then, their eyes were as clear and bright as the autumn sky.
Back then, their love was as pure and warm as sunlight falling through the trees.
In the blink of an eye, ten years had passed, and the world had changed beyond recognition.
If only life could be as it was at first meeting, why should the autumn wind mourn the painted fan?
Helpless, she let out a long sigh: "One mountain, then two. The mountains recede, the sky grows high, and cold mists shroud the waters. My yearning burns red as maple leaves."
In the end, they were destined to long for each other.
