What first came into my mind when I tried to retrieve a piece of Li Fei's memory was a garden of roses and lilies blooming at the side of the mansion in Spring, decorating the edge of the stony path across the garden where Li Fei usually threaded for her evening walk.
Summer of Geranium Rozanne and Allium Millenium when the butterflies would flock among the flowers, perching from one honey to another.
Then, came autumn, the season of Osmanthus Fragrans. The sweet petals of Marigolds dancing in the air, coloring the garden bright along with the tangerine leaves and crimson trees.
And when the winter came to visit, the flowers and the trees would grow cold and the grass grew dry. The small fountain of three angels holding a jar poured nothing but ice and snow. The sky was rained in snowflakes, cascading gently onto the ground, painting the earth and everything in it white.
