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I told her that I wanted to go to Jiangnan, Xitang or Lijiang during the plum rain season. I imagined that among the bluestone tiles of Zhejiang and Zhejiang, she was walking in front, wearing a plain white skirt, holding an oil paper umbrella, turning back and smiling at me. The time just stopped. Later, I went there alone. The misty rain, moss, and oil-paper umbrellas were all very similar to what I imagined, but there was a smile missing. So I swam south...