The world was a cold, perfect piece of white jade until the tailor poured a bucket of ink on it.
The [Mirror Master] descended, and everything was ground into flat nothingness by the [Jade Inkstone]. There is no pain, no regret, but the evidence of living is also lost.
Lin Ke, a disabled tailor who calls himself "The Skinner", guards an old shop called "Wuzhunzhai". He holds a rusty needle and dips it in the ink called "reality". In the absolutely smooth reality, he mends the painful folds stitch by stitch.
This is a game between "dirty freedom" and "sick holiness."
"In this era where even breathing has to be calibrated, only the three millimeters of crooked seams are the only outlet for life."
——To all the souls who feel suffocated in a perfect world. I hope you can smell your own scent of locust flowers in this gap.
