Revised English Version

At the edge of the desert, there was a small town. One afternoon at three o’clock, a ridiculous downpour fell. The rain only landed within a five‑metre radius around a crooked telephone pole in the centre of town. When it stopped, a puddle appeared on the asphalt as if out of nowhere.

And in that puddle, a red rose had somehow grown.

The first to notice was A‑Miao, an orange tabby cat. He crouched by the puddle and tapped the water with his paw. The rose swayed, and droplets rolled off its petals like tears.

“Are you crying?” asked A‑Miao.

The rose didn’t answer, but in the reflection on the water, something dark and soft was trembling. That was the shadow — the rose’s shadow — curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly.

“Stop crying,” A‑Miao said, licking his paw. “You’re making my fur stand on end.”

The shadow only cried louder.

Just then, a penguin waddled over. Don’t ask why there was a penguin in the desert — this town had everything. Even Old Wang next door kept a cactus that could tap‑dance.

“Oh my goodness,” the penguin gasped, covering its beak with a flipper. “A rose in a puddle, with a weeping shadow! This is so… so romantic!”