Fusheng Wuyiyi

The ramie cheongsam is soaked in the rain from the south of the Yangtze River, and the five pieces of clothing in the box correspond to half a life. Su Huaian brought his mother's blessing that "goodwill will lead to good health", like white lilies of the valley falling on the banks of the fragrant river. In Gu Yanshen's engagement with the smell of disinfectant water, he realized the value of life for the first time. The neon lights of Victoria Harbor have not yet been exhausted, and the jingle car has already sailed to the other shore carrying the farewell wind of jacaranda - Shen Mucheng taught her that worldly perfection has boundaries, but she cannot teach her a heart to take root in the reinforced forest. The rainy season in Taipei is as long as a dream from which one cannot wake up. In Chen Aisheng's studio, tuberose blooms with a dangerously sweet fragrance in the middle of the night, and the third strand of hair is like a prophecy, illuminating the desire laid out in the gentle trap. She knelt in front of the Buddha and recited the "Great Confession", and the verse "no more" echoed the snow-cut grass in Liang Youan's clinic. The therapist who planted hope in the hospice ward made her understand that compassion is a pilgrimage through pain, and saying goodbye is to let the soul learn to be alone in the ice and snow. When Hua climbed up to her brows, she finally understood the morning dew in the tenement building. Li Qingyue said nothing about the mountain laurel he brought, and only sewed "everlasting" into the palm prints used to repair the aircraft. It turns out that the destination I have been searching for for half my life is never somewhere else - when the water vapor from the south of the Yangtze River wets the embroidered lotus flowers again, all wanderings are pilgrims to find myself, and all partings are the foreshadowing of reunion with my old self. Now wearing an old cheongsam and sitting watching the boats push away the morning mist on the water, she can finally answer the lily of the valley that was crushed at Hung Hom Station. This peace of mind is never somewhere or someone, but in every moment of serious living, between every break and reconstruction, there is a pattern of her own life that has never faded.