Lin Yuyao had just finished the college entrance exams and was getting ready to finally unwind.
But who could have expected an accident? A car crash hurled her without mercy into the turmoil of a world at war, a thousand years in the past.
With the bloody conflicts recorded in the history books looming over her, she inhabits the body of a girl with the same name. Hiding the gaze that does not belong to this era, she tries to keep her tracks concealed amid conspiracies unrecorded in history.
She used to say that life and death were up to fate, and everything should be left to chance. Keep your head down and protect yourself.
She sees blades lying in wait beneath the moonlight, and alone swallows the lingering shadows of old grievances. She sees countless sorrows seep through the ink, while the crane's cry trapped in the dark ceases at dawn. She sees the young man's spirit fade beneath his disguise, leaving only a pair of eyes that tear apart the truth.
When the last string snaps, a bloodstained golden bell rings with a hatred capable of overturning the realm. The crabapples beneath the palace walls wither overnight, the pipa falls to the dust once more, and kites burn to ash amid the flames of war.
She can no longer stand by and watch.
She wants to catch the shadows falling into the abyss, and tries to raise a rebel flag against fate.
But when she looks back, thousands of miles lie behind her, and the people she once knew are gone forever. This game of strategy, with human hearts as pieces and life and death as stakes, has long been left without players. Only the wind sweeping through the halls remains, carrying away the final speck of dust yet to settle.
A thousand years later, the sound of a zither pierces the fog of memory, becoming the only proof that she ever existed.
No one knows why someone guards the breach in the cycle of reincarnation, carving unspoken love into an inscription on a tombstone, waiting for a reunion destined to pass them by.
Nor does anyone know why, before the ginkgo tree that has stood for a thousand years on the outskirts of the city, a solitary bouquet of chrysanthemums is laid every year on Qingming.
Theme: I stand on a high platform and look down upon all living things
