Pulling open the crack of the door hard, I saw pedestrians coming and going on the street outside, and vendors shouting and roasting chestnuts with sugar. At this time, I wanted to shrink into a piece of paper and slide through the crack of the door to the street. The wind passed by listlessly, accompanied by the patter of rain. The crabapple tree in the small courtyard was so weak that it seemed that it could not withstand the mist and was about to become feathered and soar. Suddenly, I found a small leaf under the door, which was weakly pressed to the ground by stones. It was lying impartially, two or three steps away from my pink embroidered shoes stained with mud. On it, written in small regular script, "Moon on the top of the willow tree, we meet after dusk." I was suddenly ecstatic. It turned out that the affair story in the book was actually true.