In a daze, I recalled that day at the gate of the cemetery. She was wearing my coat, her dark hair was flowing down her neck, and her eyes were distant.
I asked her what the flowers on her collar were, but she seemed not to hear and stared at the cemetery.
I was a little disappointed when I couldn't wait for an answer, but she suddenly smiled and said,
"The world's most beautiful jasmine fragrance."
When she said this, there was a beauty of sadness that could turn over a thousand times.
Intention: