Two slender buildings stood opposite each other.
As they extended upwards, the colors on the walls became lighter, gradually fading from gray to a desolate white.
White, black, green, orange, blue... Different colored signs, embedded with either vigorous or vivid characters, hung on the walls in a scattered manner, enticing passersby.
The narrow square squeezed out by the buildings was filled with people and vehicles of all kinds.
Men with crew cuts, wearing dark shirts and jeans, with strong physiques, slightly tilted their heads back. In one hand, they played with branches of pink and white Bauhinia flowers, while in the other hand, they held their phones, carefully and seriously selecting the right position and angle.
Girls with long, smooth hair draped over their shoulders, wearing brown jackets over their slender bodies. Between their skirts of the same color and knee-high black boots, a hint of flesh color subtly emerged. They affectionately wrapped their arms around their boyfriends' arms, occasionally taking a sip of milk tea from their cups.
Children, like untamed colts, joyfully ran through the crowd, occasionally turning their heads to glance, as if expressing their liveliness through their eyes. After a short while, they were called back by their parents, playing various poses under the flowers and trees, holding fallen petals, striking cute poses appropriate for their age, leaving behind images in the camera.
A few steps away, some slightly overweight guys took a few pictures of the red-painted benches and comfortably sat down. As their bodies twisted, they found a comfortable position and crossed their legs. As the gentle breeze blew, they squinted their eyes a few times and took out a slender lady's cigarette from their pocket. In the breeze that blew by, I smelled the sweet and sour scent of fruits and the refreshing aroma of mint.
Leaning back gently, after a while, a slight itchiness came from above. It instantly reminded me of the childhood prank of gently placing leaves on someone's hair when they weren't paying attention - golden flowers tumbled and fell on the lawn. On the brown branches of the windbell tree, wrapped in rough and compact bark, there were only a few withered leaves of similar color, but they were crowded with clusters of trumpet-shaped flowers. The abundant golden color was different from the richness of autumn, but more of a joyful welcome to spring.
Looking up, my gaze climbed along the deep gray buildings.
I saw the desolate white walls, the gloomy sky, and a section of Bauhinia branches filled with green leaves and pink flowers.
The wind still gently brushed past, the sun hid in the heavy clouds, perhaps slightly drowsy in spring slumber, while the flowers and leaves, under this slightly cold tone, were reflected even more vibrant and alive.
It's going to rain, it's spring rain.