If you want to talk about washing feet, you cannot just say washing feet; you must say: what you are washing away is the mud of walking in the world, and what you are taking away are the edges and misfortunes smoothed by time. At first, I thought tonight was an ordinary night, as she stood before me holding a suitcase; like a flower nurtured by the clear spring water in the mountains. For you, it is just a foot wash, but for him, it might be a train ticket home for the New Year, a winter down jacket to keep warm, a terminally ill mother, a father who ran away, a brother who goes to school, and a broken him. The autumn breeze understands my feelings, gentle yet profound; love rises and falls with the clock, difficult to settle. If you want to talk about washing feet, you cannot just talk about washing feet; you must talk about the delicate little hands that brush over the ankles, taking away the fatigue of the day and leaving behind the beauty of life. At that moment, I looked into his eyes, those shy yet smiling eyes, as if they could see through my soul. I could not resist his gaze, and I could no longer distinguish whether the flutter in my heart was due to love. I felt the warmth of his palms, a warmth that seemed to be the most precious warmth in my life. Some say that even though there are three thousand ailments in the world, only longing cannot be cured, and even though there is the sorrow of parting, the clock still comforts the sadness. It is hard to tell what is mundane and what is elegant; if I do not go, it would seem I lack understanding of romance.