In the early spring when I was fifteen years old, the jasmine flowers in the courtyard were blooming more brilliantly than ever before. My mother said this was a good sign for the year, and I always believed it. Later, I was the only one in Nuo Da's yard, and the winter jasmine flowers were still blooming, and the goose-yellow petals fell all over the ground as soon as the wind blew. It seemed that along the vertical and horizontal branches, one could see his cold back, like a fantasy.
Concept: Not every love has results