In their first life, she climbed three thousand steps, bowing her head with every step, hoping he would give her a home. She hated him for leaving her with nothing but the sight of his back, clad in a monk's robe.
In their second life, he knelt before the Buddha and bowed three thousand times, hoping that his monk's robe and years of cultivation would atone for his sins against her. He hated that, in the end, she left him alone at the River of Forgetfulness.
In their third life, she was a queen, and he was by her side, still clad in a monk's robe as her protector deity. He resented her devotion to her country and its people; she resented his monk's robes. In the end, she sacrificed herself to the enemy's blades, and he was unable to protect either her kingdom or her life.
Three lives, three trials, love that could never be fulfilled.
Three births and three deaths, hatred that could never part them.
In this life, he began to pursue her,
through heaven and earth, between light and darkness.
He kept asking her, “Do you love me? Did you ever love me?”
He asked her humbly, “Could you love me just once? Just once. Please, could you love me?”
Even if it was a lie, he was willing to hear it and believe it.
But she only answered with silence.
