The novel by Rilke ended the day before yesterday, almost two months after the first time I met him in a bookstore in Qingdao.

How would this novel end? What was Rilke thinking when he ended it? It ended in a cold rain night for me, and maybe also for him. Imagine that Rilke was sitting in his chair, appreciating the wild wind outside the window, leaves dancing wildly with astonishment. Yes, he found the beauty from dummy, chaotic things, as he did in this novel. The beauty flashed, arising from the peace. Chaotic memories flashed, blinding his eyes, stretching his mind. While, the portrait of the man, written down in the end, grows like a tree, stable and gentle.

(This maybe the metophor of "trees" provided by H.Hesse, I'm not sure if they know each other.)