Chaoyang, slowly climbing to the mountain top.
The crescent moon is just about to descend.
At that initial moment when Chaoyang and the crescent moon intertwined, a pair of eyes slowly opened.
The fragrance of flowers on the windowsill, the aged wood hue of the old house, the sound of the radio echoing in the ears...
The time of the moon's first waning crescent.
Everything seemed as if it had returned to the starting point.
The head was still somewhat groggy, the effects of last night's alcohol could be clearly felt.
But for some reason, the memories of last night were blurring, replaced by another set, not of regret, not of helplessness and bitterness, but rather ones to be savored, to be marveled at, and to be anticipated.
It seemed that in a short while, everyone had agreed on a class trip, and everyone wanted to go.
There was some activity in the kitchen.
This house wasn't cold and empty.
Who could it be?
