Lianyang Mountain in the south city, Lianyang in March, this is the first torrential rain after entering the summer.

Lin Yuanzhou looked at the scorching sun in the east, and then looked up at the black clouds overhead, feeling a little bored.

From behind the door of the tree house, he took out a black umbrella and jumped down from a branch nearly ten meters high.

Walking through a large mangrove forest, there is a small stream reflecting red.

The torrential rain fell into the stream, jumping jubilantly, mixed with the sound of the water, as if playing a stirring music in an ensemble.

Three hundred meters down the creek is a quiet cabin.

Lin Yuanzhou often wondered if he should hang a sign in front of this wooden house, which should say "The last wooden house in the world is still on the ground".

But he didn't dare, because she didn't like the joke.

He gently pushed open the wooden gate in front of the wooden house, and listened attentively, but did not hear any sound in the house.

The jade-like fingers of his left hand trembled slightly, and the feeling of boredom became more and more intense.

He walked to the door of the hut, reached out and pushed open the old wooden door, and put away the umbrella outside.

The house is still so clean, the old wooden floor, one layer is not clean, but it has become a little damp because of the rain.

There was a faint scent in the air, her favorite jasmine scent.

On the dining table on the right hand side of the door, there is a pile of canned pineapples, all new and unopened.

The ones that were opened were filled with soil, planted with small flower seedlings, and neatly placed them by the window.

To the left was her desk, which contained nothing but a steaming teacup.

Lin Yuanzhou walked out of the bedroom disappointed, and she was not in the bedroom.

The quilt was neatly folded, and nothing was missing except for a black trench coat and the leather coat she usually liked to wear.

He walked over to his desk, sat down in a chair, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

It's jasmine tea, people are gone, and the tea hasn't cooled yet.

His heart ached, and he reached open the drawer under his desk and took one last look.

yes, she's really gone.

The gun in the drawer, she took with her.

There should have been a sword on the desk, and she took it with her.

But what made him saddest the most was that she didn't even leave him a letter or a note.

He stared out the window blankly, his eyes a little red.

Until the rain stops and the sun sets.

He closed the door and, as he left, glanced back at the cabin.

He said softly: "Dusty Creek, wait for me." ”