Night was drawn long, hazy over all things, occasionally a bird call or two, even more cool.

the flowers out of the house are like strangers. They don't mean to relax at all. They are dust-free. The cold dew has wet the hair on the temples. The piercing cold wind can't disperse the knot in her heart. What's more depressing than the marriage given by her sweetheart.

the flower looks like a stranger at the towering solitary mountain and grins bitterly. Where is the heart, so is it coming? But what does she come here to do? Do she want an answer? An answer to convince yourself.

it's impossible for...