It is the Huangmei season, and the Jiangnan water town is shrouded in mist and rain. The two young scholars held an oil-paper umbrella together and talked happily. They stopped for a while to admire the pink lotus blooming in the pond, and then walked deep into the narrow and damp alley. When he came to the half-open vermilion wooden door, he saw a woman wearing a green gauze and a loose black bun, lowering her head and looking at the book in her hand intently.
"Lian'er, this is my new classmate and friend, Ye Qingxuan." Their eyes met, and they knew each other tacitly, and they were destined to start a heart-warming marriage.
I don't know how many years have passed, but the remaining lotus is still swaying strongly in the autumn wind, and a lonely and sad figure is reflected in the water.
The flowers in the mirror and the moon in the water are like dreams and illusions, and the face ages easily. Perhaps what remains is the faith of waiting!
Intention: The origin of love, life and death depend on each other