In the silent Paulownia Courtyard, the young man who resembled a sculpture of ice and snow stood on the desolate corridor, tilting his head slightly as his gaze drifted upwards to the top of the massive Paulownia Tree in the yard.
Now, when the warmth of spring was evident outside, this great tree hadn't sprouted a single tender bud.
He walked slowly to the center of the courtyard, his hand caressing the rough bark of the Paulownia Tree, feeling the vitality within it gradually wither away. Lost in thought, he was unaware of the tears that had reddened his eyes.
"You've been with me for so many years, do you feel it now?"
He murmured, his delicate cheek pressed against the brown bark: "Are you going to leave me too?"
The answer came from the Paulownia Tree above—a "snap" and the fall to the ground of a thin, already dead branch.
In this ever unchanging courtyard, only the Paulownia Tree still grew in response to the shifting seasons of the outside world.
