It is said that the spring scenery in the city that year was full of cold smoke and green willows, and the world was a prosperous scene.
I heard that the pear blossoms in the city were so lush that year that I had never dreamed of.
I heard... That year she stood like this under the pear tree, waiting for someone to return. Of course, I am not that person, because all the scenery I mentioned are hearsay. I have never seen it, and will never see it, just because it is not me she is waiting for... And it will never be me...