The rain has been falling all the time. The rain at the end of spring and the beginning of summer is always intermittently and intermittently. The sky is still dark. The cold palace is still cold and quiet. The rosemary in the garden has been exhausted, but the light pine fragrance is still around the pavilion. It seems unwilling to disperse.

Fu Fei sits at the piano platform and gently stirs the strings. She looks at the person in front of her eyes and opens her mouth gently: the long sleeves of

flip in the wind, as if the wind is surging in her heart

the floating surface pretends to...