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Shen Yun died in that spring, that dusk when the setting sun seemed like fire. The breeze spread the withered petals of cherry blossoms all over the streets and alleys he walked through. The unknown floral fragrance in the wind was mixed with the smell of rotting petals. Sunlight streamed down through the cascading treetops. Those fluttering petals buried all Xu Yuan's regrets and memories, and also buried Xu Yuan.