"Dust is humiliated, yet repays it with her flowers."
"How wonderful..."
The gorgeous woman spoke softly.
But it was more like she was murmuring to herself.
She had been drawn into the world of poetry and intoxicated by it.
She was someone who lived in her own world.
Meanwhile, Su Yang opened his sketchbook.
The woman looked over.
Just then, a rumble suddenly sounded in the sky.
Then rain began to fall swiftly in a fine drizzle.
"Faint thunder..."
"Faint thunder, cloudy skies, I wish it would rain, so you would stay here."
The woman recited the poem.
It was a poem many people loved.
But she only recited half of it.
Su Yang glanced at her.
Then completed it.
"...Faint thunder, cloudy skies, even if it does not rain, I will remain here."
"..."
"You still remember the Manyoshu too." The woman looked at him. "Sorry for speaking to you out of the blue."
Perhaps she had judged from Su Yang's demeanor that he was an adult.
So she assumed he was a young man who had already graduated.
"It's fine," Su Yang said. "I think Yangtsokhang's poetry is quite good too."
"Whether you see me or not, I am right here, neither leaving nor abandoning you."
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Su Yang said.
"Mm..."
Perhaps because she was discussing something that interested her, the woman became more animated. "And the earlier one: 'Best not to yearn for each other; best not to meet each other...'"
"It carries a faint sadness too."
"By the way..."
The woman looked at Su Yang, staring into his eyes.
"Your eyes are beautiful. They resemble someone I knew before."
"Especially that stern look in a boy's eyes."
"Yes, exactly!"
The woman seemed to be in high spirits.
"That's rather unfair of you to