In the summer of that year when Xie Qinghan died, gardenias were blooming all over the city.
I was caught in the crowd of mourners, watching the dark and heavy coffin coming from the street corner. In a daze, I recalled the scenes of many ordinary days - many ordinary days when Xie Qinghan stood tall in the courtyard, with flowers blooming or not in season. He looked back at me and smiled at me. Her white clothes are like snow, her black hair is like clouds, and she is as gentle as jade.
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This is a short reminiscence article that breaks the chronological order. It's quite imaginative. If you're confused or don't like it, please feel free to comment. XD
Intention: