Shu Mi Lu

In a paradox that cannot wake up. As the morning light faded, he was Zhuang Zhou, who was taking a nap at his desk. The hem of his clothes was stained with the phosphorus powder left by the butterfly's wings last night; When dusk fell, he became a butterfly fluttering its wings, and his compound eyes reflected Zhuang Zhou sleeping at his desk. Every time you wake up is like the beginning of a new dream, and every memory begins to disintegrate the moment you wake up. ——He saw his sleeping body from the butterfly's perspective, and touched the still warm butterfly corpse in Zhuang Zhou's palm. The reflection in the mirror sometimes appears with trembling butterfly whiskers Zhuang Zhou's pale face was sometimes revealed He frantically verified the truth, but found that all the answers pointed to an even more absurd cycle: using Zhuang Zhou's logical deduction, he came to the conclusion that he was a butterfly; looking back from the butterfly's perspective, it was proved that Zhuang Zhou was the illusion. A vague murmur came from the depths of the mist Trapped at the center of this paradoxical puzzle, the more you try to break free, the deeper you fall into the eternal mystery of who is real. ——Maybe Zhuang Zhou and Die never existed, or maybe they are all unfinished paradoxes written by a higher-dimensional being. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.