She once heard a voice in her dream.
Low and slow, in front of the book table with the candlelight flickering, he taught her to write stroke by stroke, taught her to recite poems in the middle of the night, and taught her how to maintain her integrity in the ups and downs of the world.
"Huaijin, be calm."
She once looked up at that man's back, which was as straight as bamboo and as gentle as jade.
She once called her with red eyes and a slightly trembling voice: "Mr. Wen."
But the man left in the end, leaving behind a letter on a stormy night. The words were as calm as water, and he wrote:
"Huaijin, you should cherish the mountains and rivers, and don't be trapped in small feelings."
... When I opened my eyes again, it was already a thousand years later.
In the morning light, she heard a familiar voice calling her gently: "Teacher Lu?"
But she doesn't remember her.
"Master x the eldest lady from a scholarly family"
"Chinese teacher (cv) x Chinese studies lecturer"
Purpose: Looking for the past and passing through the passing years
