A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman rows slowly, his net cast into the shimmering twilight. He remembers a promise made decades ago beneath these very branches—a vow to return when the moon hung full and low. Tonight, the moon is a perfect pearl, and the wind carries fragments of a forgotten song. He smiles, for some stories need no ending, only the patience to listen as the world whispers its timeless tales. The river flows on, holding memories like treasures in its deep, gentle current.