The Fifth Record, Abandoned House in Ming Valley, March 1999.

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How could such deep affection and entanglement turn into the tragic ending?

Good morning. She smiled at him.

He caught up with her quickly and said, "It seems like we haven't formally introduced ourselves yet."

Amor was confused for a while, staring at her own face for a long time, involuntarily thinking about sketching the eyebrows and eyes of the person in her dreams on this face. In her imagination, the face in the mirror should be a little thinner, the eyebrows should be a little more proud, there should be a bit of charm at the end of the eyes, and there should be a misty tenderness or a deep and distant sea in the eyes. How will she smile, and how will she frown? What kind of poignant expression will she have when she sheds tears?

Qi'an only stayed in the hotel for three days, and left suddenly on the morning of the fourth day, in an unusually hurried manner.

Emo.

Three days, it seems that we already know each other well, yet it seems to only stay at a name.

As the body curled up, there was a "pop" sound, and something fell off the bed.

After a long time, Qian lowered his head and smiled, then sat down on a flat piece of broken stone.

What she saw when she opened the door startled her.

A drop of water slid along the eyebrows, down the cheeks, cool and smooth, to the hollow of the neck between the collarbones.

Emo suddenly came to his senses, and the face in the mirror became clear again. It was still his own features, and the illusory appearance just now had disappeared without a trace.

Both of them coincidentally thought of the abandoned mansion. From there, they could overlook the entire bay from a high vantage point, and gaze at the beautiful sunset over the water. What a wonderful and picturesque moment.

He didn't want to inquire further and asked, "What place is ahead?"

Walking down the wooden staircase, at a glance, I saw Qian playing with the small flower dog in the yard.

Do you want to watch the sunset?

Emmer retorted: "You are also very mysterious in your own way."

Under his stern insistence, Emmer had no choice but to abandon her ladylike demeanor and stuff the pancake into her mouth. Qian gazed at her intentionally. Emmer, who was not used to eating in public, blushed and turned around to run ahead, out of his sight.

The cool water dispels the drowsiness of chaos, but when I look up, I see my exhausted reflection in the mirror, with red threads in my eyes.

Architecture is a solidified history, a place permeated by time, where every brick and tile leaves an imprint of a certain era. Qi'an spoke passionately, his voice filled with emotion, and his eyes shimmered with sincerity. Every word he said resonated with Emo's heart, reflecting her own thoughts. As he narrated the connection between architecture and people, Emo was deeply moved and blurted out, "People stand because of their homes, homes exist because of people, people and homes support each other, creating a profound connection between heaven and earth."

This handwriting made Emo's heart ache, in the dream... In the dream, chaotic fragments appeared vaguely. There were intense chases, endless flames, fleeting fiery skirts, dazzling badges on military uniforms, angelic childlike faces. But whose voice was crying... Emo held his forehead, a blurry impression flashed through his mind, but he couldn't grasp it anymore. His temples throbbed faintly, his mind was confused, unable to distinguish whether the fragmented pieces were the story plot conceived before sleep or the illusions in the dream... Emo held his forehead, a blurry impression flashed through his mind, but he couldn't grasp it anymore. His temples throbbed faintly, his mind was confused, unable to distinguish whether the fragmented pieces were the story plot conceived before sleep or the illusions in the dream.

Emo is quite familiar with the cultural history of the old house. When it comes to the topic of architecture, Qian'an also can't help but talk endlessly.

Qi'an's eyebrows raised and eyes smiled, "It's just what I wanted."

Will these eyebrows and this contour be the visage in the dream?

Emo didn't say a word, just looked at him quietly.

On the afternoon he left, she braved the drizzle and went to the abandoned mansion. Even until dusk, the weather did not clear up, and she couldn't see the setting sun. After returning, she started to catch a cold and had a fever. She fell into a heavy sleep and dreamt of wandering through a long corridor adorned with snow-white camellias and fiery red kapok trees. Following the melodious music, she arrived at the fragrant and picturesque estate - the former Ming Valley, which appeared clearly in her dream for the first time.

This is clearly a slippery person who refuses to speak. Qian lost his smile and said, "So mysterious?"

Standing in the empty and silent courtyard, Qian and Aimo did not speak, quietly gazing at the setting sun sinking.

Qian followed behind, watching her jet-black long hair being blown by the sea breeze, scattering in the air. Her silhouette was familiar and close. It seemed like we just met yesterday, but I never felt any unfamiliarity. It's as if I have known her for a long time. A word, a smile, already resonating like old friends.

Lost in the mist, feeling melancholy. To leave without even saying goodbye, will they really come back? Encounters on a journey never need an ending, no matter how well-matched, they remain strangers. She doesn't even know his full name, his phone number, or if he has ever felt the same way as her. Perhaps he will come back, or perhaps when he does, she will have already left. Waiting for the return of a stranger, who knows how long it will be. Perhaps he will come back, or perhaps when he does, she will have already left. Waiting for the return of a stranger, who knows how long it will be.

Walking along the way, the sunshine moves from the front to the top of the head, and quietly slides behind.

It's not necessary to have an itinerary," Qianan takes a towel to wipe off sweat, "just casually walk along the seaside, look at the old houses, relax, or wander around all day, just be at ease.

Upon waking up, fearing that the dream would be forgotten, she grabbed a piece of paper next to her and sketched the outline of the abandoned garden in her dream.

She paused, and the hesitation that flashed through her eyes was keenly captured by him.

Qi'an feels that it is unfair. "No, if we buy together, we must eat together."

A brush can depict beautiful scenery, but it cannot capture the enchanting moments. The passionate reminiscence of dreams made Emo forget about Qian and forget about being sick, devoting all his energy to writing.

Emo woke up suddenly, jumped out of bed, and indeed the diary fell to the ground.

Emo seemed to be stunned for a moment, with a somewhat absent-minded expression, smiling without saying anything.

The name is written densely throughout the entire diary, indicating that she must have loved him deeply.

On the way up the mountain, I happened to encounter the last group of tourists returning, and I ran into the same tour guide as yesterday.

The two walked along the seaside road for a short distance, and the street market gradually became lively.

Meeting by chance. She murmured these four words, and then smiled for a long time.

Qian, whispering this name on the tip of the tongue. The corners of the lips curl up, resembling a smile.

Em coughed, her voice hoarse, her hair disheveled, her face pale, her nose red, and obvious shadows under her eyes. She didn't know how long it had been since she last slept. Outside, the sun was shining and the temperature was warming up, but she was wearing a coat over her pajamas, a shawl, and still shivering, hunching her shoulders.

There are also some old houses. If you are in the field of architecture, you should be interested. Emmer pointed to the distant shade of trees and offered to be a guide, leading him to visit the old houses.

Emo was a bit puzzled by the lack of itinerary for the trip.

It's really someone who knows how to travel. Emmer felt like he met someone of the same kind, tilted his head and smiled, "So, do you have time to taste the local snacks?"

He called her name.

How formal do you want it to be? Emo smiled mischievously, "Do I need to disclose my family background for three generations, height, weight, and blood type?"

Although the boss never interferes with the personal behavior of the customers, the landlady couldn't help but worry and went up to knock on Emma's door.

The landlady reached out and touched her forehead, which was burning hot. As expected, she had a fever. Despite having a cold and coughing like this, the girl was still curled up in bed, tirelessly writing.

Emo was surprised and blurted out, "Your Chinese is very good."

Emo rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked dazedly to the washbasin. He picked up cold water and splashed it on his face.

The landlady found out that Emily hadn't left her room for two consecutive days, and even had her meals prepared by the restaurant and delivered to her.

This broken golden statue has magic power, suddenly making him forget what he was going to say and how to express it.

Qi'an nodded and smiled, "Without fate, how could we meet by chance?"

Wait for me to come back.

Qi'an honestly said: "There is no arrangement."

It's good for young people to be diligent, but it's too much for you, Xiao Ai, to write and draw even when you're sick!'' The boss lady looked at her disheveled and haggard appearance, feeling both heartbroken and angry. "Look at your complexion, as pale as a ghost, with lifeless eyes. If someone didn't know better, they would think you were possessed."

Isn't it just being possessed by a demon? Even Emo can't explain his state these past two days, it's really like being possessed by a demon.

She didn't react, lost in thought as she gazed into the distance. It wasn't until he called out again that she suddenly turned her head, looking somewhat dazed. The dark pupils of her eyes shimmered with the hazy fragments of the setting sun.

Qi'an and Aimo exchanged a smile and quickly walked up the stone steps.

That beautiful handwriting lightly depicts the characters "Zhongheng", as if the gentleness still overflows from the tip of the pen.

Qi'an's sudden departure left her feeling somewhat melancholic.

In the morning, the sunlight has a transparent texture, and the white towel draped around his neck sways back and forth. The puppy keeps frolicking around his feet—seeing this scene, Elmer's mood also feels warmed by the sunlight.

She looked at him in silence, then turned her head and asked, "Do you believe in fate?"

He went upstairs and changed into a fresh outfit before coming down. He looked neat and tidy, wearing a white shirt and gray striped trousers. Paired with Elmer's white-based gray floral linen scarf, they looked like a couple's outfit, which caught the eye of the landlady watering the flowers at the entrance.

The hallucination came so vividly, causing a perplexing sense of reality and illusion. Elmer really wanted to see clearly the face in that dream, really wanted to have a close look at "her".

Qi'an turned his head to look at her. At this moment, Emma seemed to have returned to their first encounter, calm and distant, like a completely different person.

During these three days, she and he wandered through all the old houses here, tasted the snacks from each stall, and left their footprints on the fine white sandy beach. The endless topics, about architecture, about the past, even if there were occasional differences and arguments, they would always make up and reconcile in the first place.

Why do you keep coming here again and again? He asked this potentially impolite question.

Qi'an turned around, with a bright smile, "Morning, I just came back from running."

The morning breeze brings the refreshing scent of the sea.

Diary notebook.

The best time is to climb to the top of the abandoned house together at dusk every day, and enjoy the sunset in the place where the soul lingers and dreams surround.

In the distance, the ferry terminal is bustling with people. Tour guides wave their small flags, and tourist groups come in groups like a revolving lantern.

Speaking of books, speaking of architecture, speaking of humanistic charm, the two people realized that they had too many common topics.

At that moment, Emo seemed to recall a forgotten scene from her dream. It was the back of a woman in a white cheongsam writing at a desk, with slender shoulders and neck, and even the sound of the pen scratching could be heard.

The setting sun has sunk into the clouds where the sea and sky meet, and the evening glow has dyed the snow-white camellias with a brilliant golden color. The towering ruins lie quietly beneath the sky full of clouds and rosy clouds, with the slanting sunlight penetrating the broken walls and casting varying shades of halo between the carved corridors and pillars. The bricks and stones remain silent, the grass and trees say nothing. Over the long passage of time, they have witnessed countless sunrises and sunsets, and have borne witness to the many ups and downs of joy and sorrow in this place.

Just these simple four words, without any further explanation.

Running my fingertips over rows of blurry words, I unconsciously pause beneath a name.

There is an Emo, with bright eyes, easily blushing, walking with a skip, and smiling cunningly; there is another Emo, exuding loneliness all over, seemingly from another world, completely unrelated to the surroundings.

To set an honest example, Qian immediately introduces himself as someone who was born and educated in the United States, currently residing in Hong Kong, China. He is an architect who commutes between the United States and Hong Kong for work. Although his mother's ancestral home is here, this is his first time visiting.

Oh no, my drawing! Emo rushed over and caught the paper that was blown away, panicking as if her precious treasure had been snatched away. She almost tripped herself over. The shopkeeper's wife helped her pick up the draft paper and squinted her old eyes to barely make out the drawing, which was a sketch of a house. Each paper had a different drawing, but it was clear that they were all of the same building.

"Climb to the mountain top?" Emmer's eyes sparkled.

She answered simply, "Maybe it's fate that brought me here."

Emo was forced by the landlady to take cold medicine and dragged downstairs to have a meal, still feeling a bit dizzy in the head.

As the sound of the mobile phone alarm went off, Cai Qin's gentle and melodious voice not only failed to dispel the drowsiness, but also had a hypnotic effect. Emmer turned over and changed to a more comfortable position, ignoring the alarm's function.

Last night, I fell asleep halfway through. My diary was next to me and two pages were already creased. The notebook that had been with me for many years fell to the ground and almost scattered. Aimer felt a pang of heartache, picked it up, and wiped it carefully with the sleeve of her pajamas, smoothing out the wrinkled corners of the pages.

The scene in the dream is vividly remembered, following the traces in the painting, as if a door suddenly opens. The blocked train of thought suddenly becomes clear, and the stories in the picture seem to have been seen with one's own eyes, unfolding in the mind one by one. Fingers dance on the keyboard, Emily wishes she could write down all the stories in one breath. ... She locks herself in the room, turns off the phone, ignores any disturbances from the outside world, and only sees lines of continuously appearing words on the screen in front of her... Until the landlady knocks on the door, she doesn't remember how much time has passed. She locks herself in the room, turns off the phone, ignores any disturbances from the outside world, and only sees lines of continuously appearing words on the screen in front of her... Until the landlady knocks on the door, she doesn't remember how much time has passed.

Who is knocking on my window, who is playing with the strings of the piano, that forgotten period of time...

Have you read "The Yellow Emperor's Canon of Interior Medicine"? Qian was amazed that even professionals rarely read such an obscure book.

Qi'an's eyebrows slightly raised, "Our whole family are authentic Chinese people, my family is the most traditional Chinese-style family."

Emo stared blankly at her own face in the mirror, her mind flying back to the shattered dreamscape. Time and time again, she saw the figure in the flying red dress in her dreams, but never clearly saw the mysterious face. What kind of eyebrows, eyes, and expressions could they have?

No matter how good a place is, once it becomes a tourist attraction, destruction is not far away. " Elmer sighed, but Qian did not respond for a while. When he turned around, he saw Qian eating an oyster pancake with a serious and satisfied look. Elmer had never known that a person could be so focused on eating pancakes, and she couldn't help but laugh as she watched him.

I flipped through it randomly and showed off in front of you. Emma blushed a little, lowered her head and brushed her hair by her ear. In an instant, her wrist made Qian An have a familiar and elegant demeanor.

The boss scolded repeatedly, asking whether writing manuscripts or health is more important, while scolding, she entered the house and pulled open the curtains. The sunlight shone brightly. The boss then pushed open all the windows. The sea breeze outside rushed in, causing the curtains to flutter, and a pile of manuscripts placed on the bedside table was also blown away.

Emo was taken aback, looking at the warm pancake in his hand, "I, I will eat it later."

The room was tightly closed with no ventilation. The curtains were not pulled open, and there was a strong smell of licorice cough syrup coming towards me.

His clothes and her hair were blown by the wind, fluttering and swirling.

The landlady said that when he left, it was still dark, around five or six o'clock, and he didn't check out. Instead, he prepaid a week's room fee and asked her to keep the room. At that time, Aimo was sleeping, and Qian didn't go to say goodbye, but left a note.

Both of them remained silent, with only the sound of a gentle breeze brushing against the leaves.

As a guide, Emmer is very diligent, and explains carefully to Qian every time they pass a house.

Three days may not be considered short for a chance encounter.

With her smile, Qian, who was originally eating carefreely and absent-mindedly, was embarrassed. He pointed at Emily and asked, "You asked me to buy it, why aren't you eating it yourself?"

Time flies by so quickly, and before we knew it, it's already dusk. The two of us have almost explored all the old houses along the seaside.

Seeing the two of them, the tour guide looked surprised and kept turning his head to look back as they passed by.

How many changes have the scenery of the world gone through, who is still lingering in the old place?

Emmett looked him up and down in his shorts and short-sleeved shirt, and said with a smile, "What's the plan for today?"

Sitting at the table, picking up the bowl, grabbing the chopsticks, looking at the white grains of rice, it feels as if there is a blank white paper in front of my eyes. ... Unconsciously, Aimo treats the chopsticks as a pencil, smearing them on the rice, imagining the pen tip falling on the paper. ... "Xiao Ai! Are you going crazy with writing?" The boss lady shouted, startling Aimo and also scaring her out of her wits.

The whole road is covered with green shade, adjacent to the mountains and facing the sea. Old-style buildings, some dilapidated and some well-preserved, are scattered among the greenery. Most of them were built during the Republican era, featuring both European-style imitations and something happened. They are a perfect blend of southern characteristics.