I'm an ordinary disciple of the Ten Thousand Flowers Valley. In the ten years since I entered the valley, I've made a little progress at nothing but stitching up wounds. The reason is simple: I have an overbearing senior brother who loves collecting corpses.
My senior brother has a head of glossy black hair that's especially fun to tug.
Whenever he brings back more mangled corpses, I grab him by the hair and tell him, "Man, you're playing with fire!"
Theme: Can regrets ever be undone?
