Shen Qingming has a skill.
He can "separate" people from himself - if the clone dies, he will be fine, but if he dies, the clone will disappear. So he lived a very casual life, walking when he could and lying down when he couldn't. Whether the world was in chaos or the people were in dire straits, he, the son of a storyteller, didn't deserve to worry about that.
The first person he separated had to be named Lin Shouzheng. I stayed in the crowd of refugees, massaging people's backs and rubbing their backs. I was so tired that I couldn't stand still, but I still laughed at people. The second one, named Liu Suifeng, turned around and rushed to the Tianshu Sword Sect, saying that he wanted to learn how to kill. These two people shared his life, one was shining in front, and the other was walking in the dark, with a thin thread in the middle tied to Shen Qingming's heart.
He was pulled forward by this thread, from the ruined temple to Qingshi Town, from the homeless pile to the shadow of the Protector's Mansion. He saw people starving to death on the roadside, and someone froze to death. He passed by, and someone put the last half of a piece of cake into his hand. He clutched the piece of cake and found that he couldn't walk.
The world was rotten to the core, but of the two people he separated, one wanted to hold up a roof to protect people from the rain, and the other wanted to uproot things that were rotten to the root.
Shen Qingming sat on the low wall and touched the jade pendant in his arms.
"I just want to live."
Someone in the night breeze replied to him:
"Then show us alive."
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When a clay Bodhisattva crosses a river, he cannot protect himself. But three pieces of mud fell from his body, one piece held up the sky, one piece touched the bottom, and one piece - he held it in his own hand and was reluctant to throw it away.
