At dawn the fire went out. Phoenix and Dragon flew into space. The travelers hurried to continue their journey. And only the shaman alone looked at the dying embers, remembering her youth, dreams and love. A tear fell from her eyes, the color of a cloudy sky, and hissed as steam on a hot coal, quickly evaporating... Then another... A third... The May sky spoke with peals of thunder and gifted the rice fields and tea plantations in the mountains with streams of warm rain, promising a rich harvest. The following story lies in the sounds of falling drops, the rustling of leaves and grass, the chirping of cicadas and frogs. After all, just a little love is enough for tears to flow, followed by wax and gold.