Autumn rain is distinct from the precipitation of other seasons. It falls gently, softly, like a whisper of silk, satin, mist, and smoke, tender as the needle of a cow's hair, touching the face with a cool, silky sensation.
The light rain pattered on the eaves, sparking droplets in succession, their "patter patter" forming a unique rhythm. Yueyao stepped outside and caught the rain with her hand, feeling its cool, icy touch upon her palm.
Xi Yu fetched a cloak and draped it over Yueyao, "Young lady, this rain is cold, don't let it soak through." Dampness can easily lead to catching cold.
Yueyao smiled and opened a green oil-paper umbrella, making her way to the adjacent courtyard. Upon entering, she saw Master Xuan Tian, clad in gray monk robes, and Mr. Yu Shan, dressed in white garments, sitting under the porch brewing tea and chatting.
