A nocturnal historical vignette set in a Tang calligrapher’s chamber: Huai Su lays a plantain leaf beside a cooling inkstone and writes until the leaf holds the room’s last sound. Konghou carries the wet shimmer of ink, while sparse guqin and low xiao keep the female silk-and-ink vocal close. The song moves from solitary practice to the moment the leaf becomes the only surviving witness, then quiets before dawn. Best listened to late at night, while reading, or during a period of unhurried focus.