Red beans, regarded by the ancients as tokens of longing. Three hundred years ago in the small town of Fangtai, Jiading, the spring rain clung to the skin. Young Wang Chutong braved the rain and placed a tiny red bean into the palm of Liuniang. The first threads of affection, intertwined with the verses of Wang Wei's "Longing," wrapped around the hearts of the two. Their innocent, mutual understanding, a match made in heaven from childhood companionship—moments of laughter and warmth could not escape the weathering of time. The joys of their youth transformed into the shyness and unease of adolescence. When that once-open door closed forever, did it also sever the threads of affection between them? That day, the rain still fell from the sky, but the love that once held hands and gazed into each other's eyes had turned into longing across great distances. Clutching the red bean hairpin, he knew it could never again be tucked into her cloud-like hair. Tears mingled with raindrops, trickling to the corners of his lips—the taste of longing was bitter.