After rain

After the rain, the sunset poured orange wine across the dusk.

The clouds must have stolen a sip

from the bottle I left on the rooftop.

Last evening’s sky carried that rare freshness that only comes after rain — washed clean, quiet, and full of softness. The damp air had a scent so pleasant, almost close to stillness. I took a deep breath, as if drawing the whole quiet spring into my lungs.

For a moment, it reminded me of Jiangnan — misty rivers, old bridges, wet stone paths, and light dissolving gently into water.

So I sat with that feeling for a while, letting the room fill with color and the last light of day.

潮湿的空气，有种好闻的、近乎于“安静”的味道。深吸一口，像把整个沉静的春天吸进肺里。

Soon, I’ll have to say goodbye to this little patch of sky.

But yesterday, it gave me one more evening to hold onto — in color, in air, and in memory.

This painting, and this piece on the pipa — Suzhou River — were inspired by what the evening left behind: something fresh, luminous, and gently overflowing.