The person Qingming loves is dead, but we will live happily. We will walk on the beach in the early morning, watching the red scales chasing the waves, and the reflection of the clouds; we will travel through the jungle paths at dusk, watching the sunset, the crow of the blackbird, and the yellow leaves flying. Although this all sounds like a fairy tale, it is anything but a fairy tale, in every sense of the word.
Conception: