There Is Jasmine Deep in the Forest Alley

Behind the hustle and bustle of the city lies an ancient alley. The mottled bluestone road, the moss-covered stone walls, and the few stems of decaying grass poking out from the gaps between the bricks and tiles all quietly tell the story of the years. In the deepest part of the alley, there is a small courtyard. The wooden door with peeling red paint was ajar, and through the cracks in the door, you could see several jasmine plants in full bloom inside. The petals of this jasmine flower are as warm and white as mutton-fat jade, and they are clustered together in layers, like delicate white hydrangeas. The breeze blows, and they sway gently, exuding wisps of quiet fragrance. The fragrance is not as strong and fragrant as roses, nor as cold and elegant as lilies, but with a hint of sweetness, like the gentle smile of the girl next door, lingering and refreshing. The owner of the courtyard is a young painter named Lin Moli. The jasmine deep in the alley witnessed their encounter, acquaintance, and mutual understanding, and also witnessed this pure and beautiful love like the fragrance of flowers, quietly flowing through the years. Jasmine painted the white flowers, the long alleys, and everything that happened between them into the painting. In those paintings, there is the brightness of the first ray of sunshine shining on the jasmine flowers in the morning. No matter how dim the journey is, the sun-loving jasmine will always break through and be reborn.