The parking lot is just beside the river, and there are many cars parked in various and orderly ways beside the railings of the same Han Baiyu texture, but the sculptures of the railings have been replaced by the unique symbolic patterns of the city. Feng Yong went in to find a seat himself. I got out of the car and handed over my upper body to the railing.

Beneath the railings is a winding path paved with pure wood, zigzagging along the river to a distance, and the surrounding lights are sometimes obscured by the shadows of sparse couples.

The late autumn air has become a little cool, and...