Dusk falls, though the sun has not yet fully set. Before a desolate, ancient temple deep in the mountains, a pair of old crows suddenly startle and take flight from an ancient tree, their cries echoing in the quiet air. Beneath the tree, the soft, mournful notes of a flute begin to drift. The melody is nameless, carrying a deep, lingering sorrow. The temple has long been abandoned, its gates rotted, its walls crumbling, and its path overgrown with knee-high weeds, untouched by travelers for years. Yet, beneath the ancient tree, someone is playing. It is a solitary woman, sitting alone on a stone. As the melancholy tune of her flute drifts through the air, her lonely figure appears even more desolate than the music she plays.