This is Manderley! Our mantra is our former residence! It's still as secluded and quiet as before. The gray masonry looked pale in the dreamy moonlight, and the mullioned windows reflected the green lawn and the terrace in front of the house. The passage of time has not damaged the perfect symmetry of the wall or the homestead itself. The entire house is like a pearl in the palm of your hand.

The platform is connected diagonally to the grassland, which stretches all the way to the sea. Turning around, I saw the silvery sea water, like a mirror-like lake surface when the waves are calm, quietly letting the moonlight caress it. There were no waves to make the water of dreams ripple, and there were no clouds blown by the west wind to cover the clear and pale night sky.

I turned back to the house. Although it stood erect and looked sacrosanct, as if we had just left yesterday and no one dared to touch it, I found that the garden, like the forest, obeyed the law of the jungle. The heather was a hundred and fifty yards high, intertwined with ferns, and mingled wildly with a mass of nameless shrubs. These hybrid shrubs cling tightly to Shifu's roots, as if aware of their humble origins. A lilac tree and a copper beech tree have grown together, and the ivy, always the enemy of elegance, has viciously stretched out its curved tendrils, coiling the partners more tightly and making them prisoners. . In this neglected abandoned garden, ivy occupies the most prominent position. Long vines crawling across the grass, threatening to invade the house. There is also a hybrid plant that used to grow in the forest. Its seeds were long ago scattered under the trees and then forgotten. Now it grows side by side with the ivy, erecting its ugly body like a big yellow grass. Towards the soft meadows where daffodils once bloomed.

Nettles can be seen everywhere, and they can be regarded as the vanguard of the invading army. They covered the terraces, crowded the walkways in disorder, and leaned their vulgar and slender bodies against the window lattice of the house. They were poor sentries, for in many places their ranks were broken by the yellow grass, and they hung their heads and stretched out listlessly, becoming the haunt of hares.

Manderley is a tomb, and our fears and sufferings are buried deep in its ruins.