Suddenly there was nothing between the sky and the earth, the white flower clusters were submerged in the emptiness, and ink-like clouds rolled in from the sky, stained with gray and white mist inch by inch.
At this moment, it seemed as if a familiar song sounded: "Still water runs deep, the music plays in the wind, the clouds and clouds in the three lives come and go, the joys and sorrows come together..." Tears filled her eyes, and the light blue figure was so close to her, yet seemed so far away that she couldn't touch it. She stretched out her left hand, trying to restore the fading light blue.
There is no singing here, only her endless longing and persistence.
She suddenly remembered that night when the lights were on and there were so many tourists. The young man in purple caressed her head with a serious and focused expression: "You love watching fireworks so much, why don't you let me spend a lifetime of fireworks to exchange your smile for the rest of your life."
Listen to the string break. Cut off those three thousand obsessions. The falling flowers are obliterated, and the wind is obliterated. If the flower is pity, it falls on whose fingertips.
The fog cleared, she woke up from the dream, and she finally saw the reality. Slowly closing her eyes, she felt as if she had fallen into a hug, and she could smell the clean sunshine. She felt him lower his head and kiss her forehead. He said softly: "A Yin, I'm home."