The station arrived quickly. Old-fashioned brick houses, a green tin station sign, and a lush old locust tree on the platform. A vendor selling melon seeds pushed his cart past, his calls carrying a strong local accent. Everyone stopped at the platform and piled their luggage together. Suddenly, Kai remembered something, took out his camera from his bag, and said, "Come on, let's take a group photo here, just to leave a memento of this town."

So everyone gathered together, with the railway tracks stretching into the distance behind them and the rolling green hills of the town. Ayu raised her rattan cane, Xiaotang held up the wild walnuts in her hand, Sister Chen held the bunch of wild chrysanthemums, and Uncle Lin slung his bamboo farm tools over his shoulder. With a "click," the camera captured this moment—the sunlight was perfect, everyone's face was streaked with tears, yet they smiled like dandelions by the stream.

The sound of a train approaching the station grew louder, and the tracks began to vibrate. The wind on the platform suddenly picked up, ruffling Ayu's hair and knocking a wild chrysanthemum petal from Xiaotang's hand. The plum sauce, smoked meat, handkerchief, and wild walnuts given by the residents were carefully stuffed into the suitcase, while Ayu clutched the rattan cane tightly in her hand.

"Get on the bus." Uncle Lin was the first to pick up his luggage.

Everyone boarded the train one by one and found their seats. The windows slowly rolled up, shutting out the noise from the platform. Ayu pressed her face against the glass and saw Uncle Zhou and the landlady still standing on the platform, like a few guardian statues. The train started moving, slowly pulling away from the platform, the outline of the town gradually shrinking outside the window, turning into a faint green.

The carriage was quiet, save for the clanging of the wheels on the rails. Xiao Tang buried her face in Sister Chen's arms, whether asleep or secretly wiping away tears, it was hard to tell. Uncle Lin gazed out the window, his hand stroking the bamboo winnowing basket. A-Kai took out his sketchbook and began sketching the scenery outside. A-Yu opened the rough earthenware jar, scooped a spoonful of plum jam, and put it in her mouth; the sweet and sour taste spread across her tongue, much like the taste of this journey.

"Sister Yu," Xiao Tang suddenly looked up, her eyes red, "will we come again?"

Ayu patted her head and said, "Yes, we will. When the osmanthus flowers bloom in autumn, we'll come to see Uncle Zhou and eat the osmanthus cakes made by the landlady."

"Then I'll bring my sketchbook and draw the autumn mountains." Xiaotang's eyes lit up.

"I'm bringing my camera," Kai interjected, "to take some pictures of the winter snowscape; it'll be absolutely gorgeous."

Uncle Lin chuckled, "Then I'll have to find a few more bamboo baskets to carry your wild game."

Sister Chen smiled, took out a paper packet from her bag, and distributed the osmanthus cakes to everyone: "Eat quickly, the proprietress said to eat them while they're hot."

The atmosphere in the carriage gradually livened up, and the sadness of parting seemed to be diluted by the sweet pastries and the anticipation for the future. Looking at her companions, Ayu suddenly realized that the meaning of this trip was never about escaping, but about returning in a better way. What they rediscovered in the small town was not only the beauty of nature, but also the most genuine connection between people, the courage to take root in the soil, and the freedom to dream under the starry sky.

The train entered the tunnel, plunging the carriage into a brief darkness. Ayu closed her eyes, countless images flashing through her mind: Uncle Zhou's focused expression as he carved walnuts, the landlady's busy figure as she simmered plum jam, the hunter teaching them to identify herbs in the mountains, and that starry night when everyone sat around the campfire, confiding their troubles to the evening breeze. Those moments, like stars, twinkled in the darkness, illuminating her heart.

As the train emerged from the tunnel, sunlight streamed back into the carriage, casting dappled shadows on the floor. Ayu saw that the scenery outside the window had transformed into the familiar cityscape—skyscrapers and bustling traffic. But she knew that some things were different. Like the plum jam in their suitcase, which would bring them a touch of wild sweetness on a weary morning; like the walking stick, which would remind them of the kindness that had protected them on their future mountain paths; like the rekindled light in their eyes, which would illuminate their lives once they returned to the city.

"We've arrived." Uncle Lin's voice rang out.

Everyone picked up their luggage and stepped out of the train carriage. The hustle and bustle of the city rushed towards them, carrying the familiar smell of gasoline and the hurried footsteps. Ayu took a deep breath; the air no longer carried the scent of earth and grass, but instead held a kind of warmth and life. She gripped her cane tightly and looked back at her companions—Xiaotang was curiously examining the electronic screens at the train station, Akai had already raised his camera to photograph the clouds in the sky, Sister Chen was adjusting her scarf, and Uncle Lin was looking up at the distant high-rise buildings.

"Let's go," Ayu said, her voice trembling slightly with a sob, yet full of strength, "We're going home."

They walked through the bustling exit, the wheels of their suitcases making a light, clattering sound on the ground. Sunlight streamed through the glass dome, gilding them with a golden hue. No one spoke of leaving the town anymore, for those beautiful moments, like seeds, had been planted in everyone's hearts. They knew life would go on, the city's web would still exist, but now they possessed the courage to break free and the strength to cultivate flowers in the ordinary days.

The distant clock tower struck the hour, its chimes long and clear. Ayu looked up at the sky; the sky, fragmented by the city, seemed bluer than when she had arrived. She smiled, quickened her pace, and the sound of her cane striking the ground was like a lighthearted march, accompanying them as they headed towards a new beginning in their lives.