Where fame and fame are at an end, only a bone-chilling chill remains. He wrote a desperate poem and jumped into the abyss.
When I opened my eyes again, the chirping of cicadas pierced through the years, and the breath of green grass rushed into my lungs - it turned out to be the old hills of my youth. With tears in his eyes, he saw the moonlight from his past life quietly resting under the plum tree.
The gravel crushed by fate is reunited in the palm of your hand. In this life, the power that reaches the sky has also fallen into the dust, and the edge of the sword is only lowered for her. I vowed to burn away the loneliness and coldness of the past, and use flesh and blood as a screen to protect the bright and clear light in front of me - the lost and recovered light.
