Shi Feiyang raised an oil paper umbrella, its surface a graceful azure. Raindrops fell upon it with a crisp tick-tock sound.
With one arm, he steadily held Little Yu Yan, accompanying Gong Simeng in a leisurely stroll through the front courtyard and backyard.
The scenery in the rain resembled a poetic ink painting, beautiful like a dream.
Pavilions and towers appeared faintly in the rain mist, like celestial palaces in an immortal realm.
The lotus leaves in the pond were washed fresh green by the rain, water droplets rolling on them like pearls, crystal clear.
Beside the winding path, the grass was lush and the flowers vibrant, with dewdrops hanging on the petals, shimmering with a soft glow, each one like a meticulously crafted piece of art.
