The head porter comes by Xingzhu's door for the third time, and for the third time, she apologizes to him. But in response, he waves his hand and says: 'No need to rush—in your own time.' With the master of the Ning household gone, there was no reason for the scattered family to return to this old manor, and one after another, they moved their belongings out. They had places to be, and left without so much as a farewell, but Xingzhu still had fond memories of the place and stayed. However, that was only the beginning of the avalanche, as with no employer present, the help also tendered their resignations one by one. Now, she is the only one left in the grandiose manor. A moving van sits in the courtyard, and the porters consult her on each item they load. Each question brings a pang of reluctance; leaving anything behind feels like abandoning a piece of herself. But if she fills the small studio she rented with the past, how could she begin a new life there? In the end, she chooses only the most important things, and bade the head porter to wait for her at the manor gate. After the van leaves the courtyard, the silence of the mansion becomes even more unnerving. There is a chill in the air, and Xingzhu draws her clothes tight. She has never seen the manor so messy and deserted, its former treasures now nothing more than junk to stub your toe on, creaking as they are trod upon. She slowly walks down the corridor to a large pot of lotuses, a creation she and the family gardener once nurtured together. In the past, whenever the Nings hosted a banquet, she loved looking for any excuse to wander the grounds instead. One time, the gardener took her all over the compound, and in the kitchen, they found an exceedingly suitable pot. 'One day, when there's no one left at your side, you'll still have this pot of lotuses,' said the gardener. For countless afternoons, she would sit by the pot as happy as can be, watching the little fins dart about under the lotus leaves. The gardener has gone back to his hometown to look after his granddaughter, and took the fins with him. Only the lotuses are left, and she is at a loss as to where they belong. She continues onwards, wanting to see the rock garden shaped like a fowlbeast. In her youth, the oddly-shaped rock often found its way into her dreams, always turning into a true blue fowlbeast that took her to the warm place her parents lived. It is only now that she notices the rockery had collapsed, nothing more than a pile of rubble. She continues onwards: to the old persimmon tree in the garden, the towering bookshelf in the study... So much to leave behind. ...... 'Excuse me.' 'Is there something else you wish to take, Miss Ning Yin?' 'Yes... this key.' The ancient key lies in Xingzhu's palm, the grain on its handle worn away after decades of use. 'Even if you keep it...' The head porter hesitates and looks at her expression for a moment, before finally changing his tone: 'Very well. Nothing wrong with that.' And so, the old key hangs upon her keychain once more, despite having no use anymore. It jangles alongside the key to her new studio, echoing a lonely melody of the old days that are no more.