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Carried Away by The River

Even though the distant mountain tops are still covered with snow, Spring is here. Thousands of peach trees are in bloom, announcing their most beautiful season. Hiding among the peach blossoms, there is a small, two-storied exquisite building: Black roof, white window paper, and red patterned wood frames. One panel of the windows is open. A lady in green is sitting there—She is playing her flute.   She has been playing for quite a while. Hence nobody passes by, nobody hears it, and nobody   understands what’s in her heart. She puts down the flute and sighs deeply. It is a lovely day: A light sheen of mist is trembling over the river; the ripples of water are glistening; the spacious river, the burning youth of peach blossoms. She remembers an ancient poem which a man sent to her before: “ Lavish Autumn reeds, frosty morning dew;  The lady of my dreams, on the other side alone; Cross upstream to find her, the river is dangerous;  Cross downstream to find her, the water is spacious…” Th

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