The people of Daqi all say that there are gods in Ding'an Mountain who protect our mountains and rivers.
But no one knew that the statue that had been worshiped by generations had personally picked out his own love bones a hundred years ago.
According to historical records: General Zhenbei died in battle and his body was wrapped in horse leather; the Holy Ancestor Emperor Mingjun never married.
But there is a missing sentence in the unofficial history - when the general died, he was holding a jade pendant engraved with the word "Yuan"; and in the secret room of the emperor's palace, a pair of blood-stained young man's armor was locked.
What's even more bizarre is that all the astrological records about that night in the Qintian Prison have been erased, except for one sentence:
"The Beidou hangs upside down, and the gods cry for three nights."
In the Nine Heavens, a game of chess has been played for hundreds of years. The person holding the white piece is as silent as snow, and the person holding the black piece is filled with hatred.
Until a bloody chess piece fell into the world——
That was the general's last breath, and it was also the last life the gods bet on.
When the mountain god chooses silence, when the emperor begins to forget,
When history books and lies are mirror images of each other,
Who is still on the ruins of truth, waiting for a new day that will never rise?
——It turns out that "I love you" that has never been spoken is the deepest protection and the most cruel curse.
Purpose: We write about the fate of gods, the bloody generals, and the lonely emperors. What we ultimately ask is: when personal emotions and memories become the only sacrifices in exchange for the peace of the common people and the "existence" of the loved ones, is this sacrifice a hero worthy of praise, or is it a silent cruelty under the law of heaven? This story attempts to find a glimmer of light on the ruins of "remembering" and "forgetting", "owning" and "letting go", "rules" and "instinct" - even if all traces are erased, love itself may have become a skeleton older than memory and more stubborn than fate, silently supporting every morning of "reunion". It is about sacrifice, but it is more than sacrifice; it is about forgetting, but it is a firm belief that there are some things that forgetting cannot really take away.