Autumn rain dyes the moss, an autumn love letter to the ancient city wall

The continuous autumn rain seems to have pressed the slow-motion button on the Xi'an Ancient City Wall. The rainwater soaks the green bricks again and again, and from the cracks in the bricks that have been dormant for hundreds of years, a surprise quietly emerges—the green moss spreads along the texture of the wall like a soft velvet moss garment woven by time itself, gently wrapping the weight of the years. Occasionally, a few blades of grass and some pale purple nameless flowers peek out from the cracks, carrying the dampness after the rain, adding lively patches of color to the originally plain gray wall. When the wind sweeps past the wall, the grass leaves gently sway, and the moss garment seems to ripple faintly, as if this silent city has finally stretched its muscles and gained a vivid breath in the autumn. I used to think the city wall was a solemn symbol of history, but now I realize that a single rain can make it shed its solemnity and become the softest scenery in Xi'an. Walking under the wall, listening to raindrops sliding off the moss, I can’t tell if it’s the rain speaking or time whispering softly.