The petals, as red as flames, tap lightly on the jasmine fingertips, the jasmine pink lips open slightly, and the petals fall gently from the fingertips. Several flying insects were flying around the lantern wrapped in plain paper. Under the snow-white light of the lantern, a fresh rose petal was sleeping quietly in the soil. The petite jade hand lifted the paper lantern, and Jasmine held a slender brush in her left hand. The thick ink bloomed on the tip of the pen like a loose soft cloud. The deep ink touches the hanging pure lamp surface, the tip of the pen dances, and the black crow feathers slowly dance on the corner of the white paper. The paper lamp suddenly swayed slightly, and the ink in the corner was still wet. There was a cool north wind blowing, which also stirred up Jasmine's soft and dense green hair. The wind gradually died down, and the hair fell slowly like snow, like a deep waterfall of ink hanging lightly on the back of the head. The lantern fell into the hard gravel, and the crisp sound echoed in the air. The candle wick in the lantern fell to the ground, the flames crept onto the paper, and the flames spread among the withered vines. The rose petals are as rich as blood, with despair, sweetness and sorrow flowing through their veins. A handful of gray embers were scattered in the still-burning fire. The embers flew away with the fire, and among the dust, an inconspicuous bird feather was imprinted, and it flew gracefully in the smoke.