Raindrops gently tap against the window lattice, scattering a chorus of watery notes. Blurred in the mist, the mountains' red foliage fades in and out of view behind the rain's veil, as if draped in a thin layer of gauze. Peaks are shrouded in layers of fog, emanating a sense of sublime remoteness and mystery in the stillness.

Quaint wooden houses send up faint wisps of smoke, nestled among the green trees and red leaves, brimming with the thick aroma of life. In the rainy fields, stalks of rice bow low under the weight of their heavy ears, waiting for the moment of harvest. On the ridges, a lonely skylark spreads its wings and soars high across the sky, adding a touch of vitality to the rain's curtain.

The gentle autumn rain cleanses the earth, and washes away the restless hearts of city dwellers. Once the rain passes, what overflows across the sky is the simple tranquility of the mountain village, allowing people to rediscover long-lost silence and contentment amidst the hustle and bustle.