The rain outside the window had stopped at some point. A sparrow fluttered its wings and landed on the windowsill, tilting its head to look inside, chirping non-stop. Su Jinli's gaze was drawn to it, and she suddenly remembered many years ago, when Jiang Yan was still an editor at the Hanlin Academy. Once, he brought back a wounded little sparrow from court, its wings stained with blood. He squatted under the eaves of the dilapidated courtyard to bandage it. The sunlight fell on his focused profile, and the velvety halo of light mesmerized her. Later, when the sparrow's wound healed, he held it in his arms and walked out: "Jinli, you see, birds always fly to freedom."

"Freedom..." She repeated the word in a low voice, her fingers unconsciously groping under the pillow - there was a smooth piece of bamboo hidden there, which was the base for the sugar-painted phoenix that Jiang Yan had given her. Fifty years of caressing made it as smooth as jade, and the edges were rounded.

"Grandma," Xiaoyue leaned close to her ear, holding a thread-bound storybook in her hand, the pages already slightly yellowed, "please listen to me read you a new story. The first chapter is called 'Street Encounter with Sugar Painting'..."

Su Jinli's eyes suddenly lit up, like a spark rekindled from a dead ashes, igniting the last remaining candle flame. She looked at Xiaoyue'er's crooked handwriting in the storybook, and a vision of her sixteen-year-old self appeared before her, squatting at a sugar painting stall on West Street, arguing endlessly with a young man in a green shirt. The sunlight was so bright, it fell on the corners of his smiling eyes like a handful of shattered stars. He pointed at the dragon she had drawn on the slate, laughing so hard he collapsed. "Jinli, your dragon looks just like an earthworm!"

"He said... the dragon I drew looked like an earthworm..." She suddenly laughed out loud, a faint laugh filled with a hint of pride. As she laughed, she coughed up two mouthfuls of blood foam, staining the plain collar of her shirt red. The color was very similar to Su Qingyao's "Drunk in the Clouds". "But he still... gave me the Phoenix..."

"Grandma!" Xiaoyue was so scared that she dropped the storybook and threw herself on her, her tears soaking her chest.

Su Jinli seemed not to hear, staring out the window at the gradually clearing sky. A crack appeared in the clouds, letting in a blindingly bright stream of sunlight. She saw a figure in a green shirt standing in the clouds, holding a crystal-clear sugar-painted phoenix. He smiled gently at her, "Miss Jinli, look, I'm here to pick you up."

"Jiang Yan..." She stretched out her hand with her last bit of strength, and her fingertips seemed to touch that familiar warmth, "I... I'm coming..."

Suddenly, a burst of sobbing erupted beside the couch. Su Heng wiped his tears, cursing as the toy sword in his hand clanged to the ground. Su Qingyao covered her face as her rouge box fell to the ground, scattering the powder of "Zui Liuxia" like the tea that had spilled from Liu's overturned teacup. Nianli clutched her mother's hand tightly, but felt only a chill, a warmth that instantly broke her apart.

Outside the window, a vibrant butterfly fluttered by, its wings intricately patterned and beautiful, reminiscent of the timeless phoenix at the West Street sugar painting stalls. Su Jinli's hand slowly dropped to her side, a satisfied smile still playing on her lips. It was as if she could actually see her champion, reaching out to her from the clouds, her voice so gentle it could drip water: "Jinli, we're going home."

The raindrops from the sycamore leaves dripped down and hit the window sill, making a clear sound, as if leaving the last gentle footnote for this love that spanned fifty years.