The tears silently flowing out of Yin tide's eyes meandered farther and farther over time, as if they were going to meander for the rest of his life, traveling freely through parallel time and space. The quiet time seemed to have stopped beating, and the sadness and sorrow in his eyes was only borne by himself, spreading into a stream. There is no longer any intersection with the forest. The vines curl up and disappear with the wind, just like the wind passing by without making a sound...
