This is the final solar term of autumn. If White Dew is the prologue of autumn, and Autumn Equinox its climax, then Frost's Descent is the closing chapter of the season.

In Shuowen Jiezi (Explaining and Analyzing Characters), "frost" is defined as "the end, the finisher of things."

One character, two destinies.

Frost is a power that both withers the vegetation and fades vitality, and also ripens fruits, condensing their sweetness to perfection.

It makes persimmons redder, oranges sweeter, and grains fuller.

And in the still morning, it lays a thin veil of silver across the earth.

Frost's Descent always unfolds a feast for both the eyes and the soul in its own quiet way.

The west wind grows sharp overnight, fallen leaves layer like poems, and frost with red leaves is autumn's most romantic farewell.

The sky is blue, persimmons are red, oranges are golden. Frost stands between dew and snow—sharper than dew, gentler than snow.

It does not cover the land like snow, yet it whispers to all things more softly than dew—

"I have come. Autumn has deepened. You must learn to draw inward, and also to ripen."

Frost's Descent on earth marks the final chapter of autumn.

Green oranges turn golden, good persimmons ripen in frost.

Each frost, each persimmon speaks of autumn's chill; with each descent, the red deepens, and winter nears.

Frost blossoms on the leaf tips like tears—autumn's lingering affection and reluctant farewell to the earth.

And in this tender attachment, we also learn to say goodbye, and to cherish.

After Frost's Descent, when frost blossoms cover the windows in the morning, we know late autumn has truly set in.

Life, too, begins to slow down—

The sweet aroma of sugar-fried chestnuts fills the streets, and warm roasted sweet potatoes melt in the heart.

Gathering around the stove, boiling tea, chatting idly—days seem to be steeped in a cup of hot tea,

To be sipped slowly, to be warmed gently.

This solar term is made for wrapping gentleness in your coat and tucking the season's harvest into your heart.

It tells us:

The rhythm of life has never been only about growing and blooming,

But also about withering, drawing in, and settling down with wisdom.

Just like frost—it brings "loss" but also "completion,"

Gain and loss, busy and idle, rise and fall in life all turn like the four seasons,

With balance in the heart, one may walk with composure.

Let us bid autumn a proper farewell,

And await the first news of snow.

May you, in the growing cold,

Keep warmth in your heart and walk with ease.

For every ending is, after all, another kind of beginning.