Seeking, Fragrant Bloom

Once upon a time, the old wounds, the old pain, repeatedly recalled. That passionate summer, a torrential rain frantically tore through the dense canopy, attacking the dilapidated window frames. After the torrential rain, the mood was also damp. I don't know, the state of mind when a person is lost, at least I was abandoned by youth and time, standing alone in the empty house savoring loneliness.

Partings are always sudden, always unexpected, helplessly let go once. Opening the curtains, the view turned to the mountains, the rain had stopped, just as you rushed away. The mountains were shrouded in mist, I tried to recall the outline of your face, but it was always elusive, unable to be fixed on the window frame.

I opened the music box, listening to's 'Woman Flower', listening to the fragmented and discontinuous lyrics: 'Woman Flower swaying in the red dust, Woman Flower follows the wind, lightly swaying, hoping for a pair of gentle hands to soothe my loneliness'. Unconsciously, tears welled up in my eyes, some hot, some moist, I restrainedly swallowed them, trying not to be overwhelmed by the details. I was infected by the soothing music, gradually, the music flowed into my chest, filling the emptiness and pain in my heart. I know, I am destined to lose you, my hands can't hold the fleeting time.

Love, only to know how painful and deep the pain can be. I just remained silent, immersed in the warm memories. I bit a cold tooth, enduring the unforgettable memories in trembling, not wanting the past to fade away with the passage of time and the change of seasons. It shouldn't be hatred, I just want to remember the past. No matter the seasons change, no matter how far I go, how long I go, sometimes a fallen leaf, a drop of falling rain, can trigger my nerves, letting me vaguely see your figure.

Even if it's blurred, I desperately tried to sketch your warmth. I imagined the figure galloping across the plains, how he passed through the fields, or stopped in the fields to build a shade, gazing south, south has rain, all damp. I imagined you walking in the snow, leaving a string of deep and shallow footprints, under the snow-covered trees, under a fluttering scarf. I felt as if I could hear your inner monologue, like a mournful, wailing flute, it came from your heart, it crossed vast plains, directly to my ears.

Love, pain, and parting are irretrievable. But time will still slip through our fingers, I often unconsciously stretch out my hand, wanting to pick up the memories. I am just like you, we firmly believe that time cannot flow backwards, but I cannot erase the memory on my palm, perhaps you are just one of my life experiences.

Love, pain, originally is the experience of life, I can't lift weights. This April is the time when the primrose blossoms, your personality is as gentle as the blue wind chimes, stretching out the trumpet-shaped mouth, silently revealing your emotions on the hillside. Blue, also profound. I thought of you beside the blue sea, thought of your silhouette, thought of you playing in the shallow sea.

At this time, you are like a white wave flower nestled under the blue wind chimes, forever in my memory. Pain, love, and parting are irrevocable. Today at dawn, the azure sky was hazy, I could hear the faint sound of birds singing. The windows were brighter than before. Through the small window, the morning sun broke through the mist, faintly illuminating the buildings.

In the midday, I stepped out of the gate, walked into the street, searching for traces. The warm sun chased after my footsteps, surprisingly refreshing, a slight breeze, warm and cozy, the winter's boredom disappeared without a trace. The saying goes: 'In February, you still have to freeze the lily flowers'. Don't care about it, since winter has ended, green grass, colorful flowers, will certainly fill the wilderness. Searching for traces, you are spring.

As I strolled along the street, I wondered: how would you be like a mature woman? Would you be a teacher, lecturing on the three-foot stage and traveling to mountains and rivers? Would you be a classmate, always chatting incessantly? Would you be a woman who values self-esteem more than material possessions and refuses to step out of the fence? Under the snow line, you dug out a spring, in the Jiangnan plum rain season, your courtyard played strings.

You like the lake with high moons, like the maple leaf shallowly drunk autumn, also like to go on a spring outing in the peach blossom forest, dyeing your mood pink. Searching for traces, you are spring. No one would refuse the sunshine. The ancient town girl, a paved stone road, connected a row of wooden houses, the small watermill made a buzzing sound all day, accompanied by the sound of flowing water. The stream was green and quiet, and the rapeseed flowers were spread across the eyes.

You walked through the stone path in a youthful manner, carrying a backpack full of dreams. These dreams, even many years later, you can't shake off. Where the sun shines, there is a slender silhouette. In your room, the orchids and shy grass climbed up like green bamboo. Searching for traces, you are spring.

You used to think that three feet of land, hair can turn into white, but time has taken another route. Life has begun, how can it be afraid of the length of the road. You waved goodbye to the fence of the South Slope, and the plum blossoms were already adorned with leaves. You walked through a winter. Now, spring has come, and the wind will bring a fresh look. You've walked a step.

I recalled the past, the heart was full of love, the past had long been lost. It is better to forget all these love and hate, let it be, let it be. I want to remember the past, I don't want to have any resentment.

A famous writer said: 'April is cruel'. April is cruel, I don't want to say a word, I don't want to add a hint of greed to my heart. When the Wenchuan earthquake happened, the sisters came to visit, this woman wearing a long dress and tying a belt, said a very earthy sentence: 'I don't afraid of spending money.' Think about it, when the earthquake happened, the sand and rocks rolled, the wheels of the car soared, the houses collapsed, half a lifetime of hardship was ruined.

If I am hungry, even a piece of fragrant dried Sichuan peppers in my mouth, can numb the fear in my eyes. After enlightenment, scrutinize life, the river still flows, life seems small. The movement of the earth, the scenery changed, a new life has more to think about. I just want to guard a corner of the scenery. You don't step into half a step, just like trees separated, and the barrier of mist. From now on, the bridge is gone, the road is gone. After several days of drizzle, the sun finally shone.

In the whirring sound of the fan, I suddenly remembered you, remembered the past love and pain; remembered the emotions that are farther than the path. Whenever the weather changes, it triggers my nerves. A while ago, the girl from Sichuan came to visit, this woman dressed in a long skirt and tying a belt, said a very earthy sentence in front of everyone: 'I don't afraid of spending money.' Think about it, when the earthquake happened, the sand and rocks rolled, the wheels of the car soared, the houses collapsed, half a lifetime of hardship was ruined.

If I am hungry, even a piece of fragrant dried Sichuan peppers in my mouth, can numb the fear in my eyes. After enlightenment, scrutinize life, the river still flows, life seems small. The movement of the earth, the scenery changed, a new life has more to think about. I just want to guard a corner of the scenery. You don't step into half a step, just like trees separated, and the barrier of mist. From now on, the bridge is gone, the road is gone. After several days of drizzle, the sun finally shone.

As I strolled along the street, I wondered: how would you be like a mature woman? Would you be a teacher, lecturing on the three-foot stage and traveling to mountains and rivers? Would you be a classmate, always chatting incessantly? Would you be a woman who values self-esteem more than material possessions and refuses to step out of the fence? Under the snow line, you dug out a spring, in the Jiangnan plum rain season, your courtyard played strings.

You like the lake with high moons, like the maple leaf shallowly drunk autumn, also like to go on a spring outing in the peach blossom forest, dyeing your mood pink. Searching for traces, you are spring. No one would refuse the sunshine. The ancient town girl, a paved stone road, connected a row of wooden houses, the small watermill made a buzzing sound all day, accompanied by the sound of flowing water. The stream was green and quiet, and the rapeseed flowers were spread across the eyes.

You walked through the stone path in a youthful manner, carrying a backpack full of dreams. These dreams, even many years later, you can't shake off. Where the sun shines, there is a slender silhouette. In your room, the orchids and shy grass climbed up like green bamboo. Searching for traces, you are spring.

You used to think that three feet of land, hair can turn into white, but time has taken another route. Life has begun, how can it be afraid of the length of the road. You waved goodbye to the fence of the South Slope, and the plum blossoms were already adorned with leaves. You walked through a winter. Now, spring has come, and the wind will bring a fresh look. You've walked a step.

I recalled the past, the heart was full of love, the past had long been lost. It is better to forget all these love and hate, let it be, let it be. I want to remember the past, I don't want to have any resentment.

A famous writer said: 'April is cruel'. April is cruel, I don't want to say a word, I don't want to add a hint of greed to my heart. When the Wenchuan earthquake happened, the sisters came to visit, this woman wearing a long dress and tying a belt, said a very earthy sentence in front of everyone: 'I don't afraid of spending money.' Think about it, when the earthquake happened, the sand and rocks rolled, the wheels of the car soared, the houses collapsed, half a lifetime of hardship was ruined.