Murong was seventeen when she died. When I opened my eyes again, I became a banyan tree seed buried in the soil of Qingcen Mountain.
It has been sleeping in chaos for hundreds of years.
There was a little monk who touched the trunk of a banyan tree for the first time when he was five years old and felt that there was something in the tree. A sleeping consciousness. The young monk called Mu Rong "Little Rong" and he called him "Little Rong" all his life.
The young monk practiced cultivation under the tree and waited for Mu Rong to wake up. Waited for thirty-five years.
Murong finally woke up.
They are friends. A monk and a tree. That's all.
