Rain enters the heart, no matter north or south.

If you are in the south of the Yangtze River, you should set off this subtle solar term like a ray of spring rain, but in Urumqi in the northwest, the warm sun around zero degrees Celsius still does not prevent the rain solar term from coming as scheduled.

Rain and solar terms, Jiangnan is moist and silent from top to bottom, and northwest is the undercurrent of snow turning into streams. But no matter what form of nourishment, it does not affect their respective spring.

No rain, no spring, no water, no spring. If beginning of spring just opened the curtain of spring, then rain is the prelude to the spring chapter. After a bleak and deep winter, the rain came, fresh and self-sufficient, as if a world had changed between the eyebrows.

It is no wonder that for thousands of years, such a quiet and soft solar term rarely shines in everyone's mouth, only appearing in the poet's poems, as if afraid to disturb her appearance.

In Du Fu's poems, rain is the most pleasing:

Good rain knows the season, when spring comes.

Sneak into the night with the wind, moisten things silently.

In Han Yu's poems, Yu is more like a good girl who only appeared when she first grew up:

There is a lot of silk in the sky above the avenue, which is as delicate and moist as butter. The grass is vaguely connected in the distance, but it looks sparse in the near future.

But my favorite rain is a poem by Lu You Lu Fangweng:

In recent years, officials are interested in a thin layer of gauze. Who will let me take a bus to Kyoto to visit this bustling city?

Living in a small building and listening to the falling spring rain, you will hear the sound of selling apricots in the depths of the alley early in the morning.

Among them, the scenes, characters and artistic conception, such as Jiangnan, which is blurred by ink and wash, are numerous and indescribable.

Rain, the simplest word, can enter age, time, heart, dream and heart. A little moist, the grass grows and the warblers fly, the trees are green and soft, and the heart is clear and the eyes are long.

Draw grandeur by osmosis and construct comprehensiveness by minimalism. At this level, rain is closest to our own emotional expression and experience.

What kind of love is born eternal? What kind of love is always meaningful? What kind of love is great from the beginning? What kind of love is taken for granted?

Never.

Any love, like this rainy solar term, is awakened, nourished and germinated silently.

Rain enters the heart.