This is a story that happened in a courtyard with green tiles in the south of the Yangtze River. Two old people were rocking on old wicker chairs and listening to the rain. The wind and rain for half their lives were densely woven into the yellowed pages of the book. She never said the word love. Her love was buried due to death, and one day another love began. When he was first discovered, she seemed to have said "I love you" to both of them in their entire lives, but ended up listening to the rain alone when the sycamore trees shed tears in the courtyard. This was a tragic love, a tragedy created by her and this era, and she was the only one who suffered this tragedy.
Concept: Death, disease, or any external blow cannot destroy a love, but love will be destroyed because of people, the prejudice of the times and the shaping of people. This is a tragedy, a tragedy that the times cannot bear.