The maple leaves turned red several times, and she stayed in the forest every day, accompanied by the pairs of swallows growing old together under the eaves, and a yellowed letter from home. I don't know who to wait for, and I don't know where to start. She seemed to have forgotten a lot of things. No one could tell whether she had forgotten or didn't want to remember. The bright moon was there at that time, and it once illuminated the colorful clouds.
During the Lantern Festival, she walked to the street as usual and saw a fisherman's ferry. When she stepped on the boat, she heard only the sound of oars and the sound of water. It was clearly the twelfth lunar month of winter, but she saw endless lotus flowers covering the sky. She looked back and quietly looked at the chatting and laughing passengers on the boat. Suddenly, she recalled the peonies on the shore and a clear and elegant shadow, and her eyes filled with tears.