She raised her head and dimly seemed to see the man in blue shirt and dark hair sitting on the ground under the plum blossom tree, playing the guqin on his lap. The tune spread from his fingertips and floated into the air, making the air sad. After he finished playing, he raised his head and smiled at her, just like when they first met, just like when he stood at the bridge waiting for her on Chinese Valentine's Day, just like the night of farewell in the plum garden, as gentle as water, as light and picturesque.