Jia Ping 'ao Weather Message

Summer afternoon, the weather is dull. Under the cloudy sky, a small town lay quietly. There are no tall buildings in this city. Looking around, blue bricks and gray tiles. The walls and towers in the distance are also hazy and become gray silhouettes.

I sat alone by the window of the old house in the deep alley, listening to the rustling sound. Outside the window is a small yard with a willow tree in it. This tree is very old. It should belong to my grandfather's generation. The leaves are spotless, green and oily as jade.

There is a big water tank near the corner. The water tank is full of water, and the water drops falling from the eaves fall into the tank, making a tinkling sound. Several goldfish flickered their red tails and put their mouths out of the water to open and close, as if they were receiving rain from heaven.

A few pink peonies in the flower bed are blooming brightly, and the flower tray nods gently, as if a beauty is dressing up. At this time, the grass is also very energetic, straightening up one by one, trying to compete with the tree.

The room was silent. The white cat curled up on the desk and slept soundly. Time seems to have frozen at this moment. For a moment, I don't know where I am. It seems that many, many years ago, the same scene, except that the person sitting by the window was not me.