Ink branches curve, like the black hair of a beauty bowing her head, drawing forth crimson clouds full of branches. Blossoms are like dewy 绮 dreams, stretching freely on branches. Green leaves and color spots adorn the dreams. Each ink mark hides the rhythm of flower branches trembling gently, painting a lingering whisper between blossoms and branch shadows —— it’s nature embroidering the tenderness of spring onto these drooping branches.