lit. clouds rise and plum blossoms smell

A diary I found at a yard sale. The mysterious boy I met at West Lake. The tombstone by the waterhole in a small village in Jiangnan. All this is too much to tell. Everyone has his own story, and when that story becomes history, we can only recall the old years. The war is raging, the world is in turmoil. When we recall the unforgettable past, I wonder who else will remember the history that has been obliterated by the flood of time. She looked at his back and recited a farewell poem: "You are the clouds in the sky. I am the plum on the ground. Clouds in the sky, plums on the ground. Though we meet in this life, we will never meet in the next. Though we part in this life, we will remember each other in the next. I don't know how the plum feels when the snow falls from the clouds. The dark fragrance of the plum rises with the wind and goes after the clouds. ......