Just as she couldn't recall the details of the suffering she had endured, Luyinong couldn't fully remember what happened on the evening when the gunshot sounded.

She asked the psychologist, "Is there any way to remember it all?"

The psychologist said, "It's the brain's self-protection mechanism. If you forcefully try to recall, it will cause harm to you."

She said, "It doesn't matter, I have to remember."

The psychologist couldn't understand.

Then he saw this thin woman smile out the window, a smile filled with extreme sadness.

She said, "That's the last image she left me, I have to remember it."

The psychologist didn't know if she eventually remembered every detail, but she knew that if this woman named Luyinong repeatedly recalled the image of her husband's death, she would inevitably fall into a long and inescapable pain.

Luyinong terminated the treatment and never returned.

The last person who had an impression of Luyinong should be the administrator of a cemetery in Nanjing.

It was not a holiday or a festival, so the cemetery already had few visitors.

It was raining heavily that day, making it even more deserted.

The administrator was listening to the radio, feeling drowsy.

Then the glass was knocked.

She saw a young woman standing at the door, holding a black umbrella, her pants already soaked.

The administrator quickly let her in to register.

She noticed that the girl named Luyinong brought a box of cake and couldn't help but ask, "Is it your family member's birthday today?"

The girl smiled and said, "Today is my husband's birthday."

She was clearly smiling, but the administrator felt that she had probably said the wrong thing.

Just then, a tune from the radio played, it was from The Peony Pavilion.

Gently and leisurely, one line of the song goes: "To be born is to be unable to coexist with death, and to die is to be unable to be reborn. They are all the utmost of emotions."

The girl stood still as if she was caught up in some memories, and it took a long time for her to remember to put down the pen.

"I'm leaving now," she said.

The administrator walked to the door and watched her figure disappear into the pouring rain.

Between heaven and earth, between mountains, it seemed that only her silhouette remained.

The administrator couldn't help but recall the song she had heard in the 1970s and 1980s, how did the lyrics go again?

Oh, I remember now.

Traveling alone through a thousand mountains, no need for farewells.

(The End)