He knelt among the broken porcelain, holding a clay figure.
It was an old thing from ten years ago - the clay figurine had long faded, and there were only a few bruises on the sleeves, and it was vaguely identifiable as a young scholar. His hand was cut, and blood fell on the clay figure's face drop by drop, but he didn't wipe it away.
He is crying.
The nine-thousand-year-old man who had made all the civil and military officials in the dynasty kneel down was kneeling in a deserted and cold palace, wailing silently.
I stood outside the window and saw it.
Later, he grabbed my chin and asked me: "What did the princess see?"
I said, "I didn't see anything."
He smiled, a sinister smile that made people shudder as rumored.
But he doesn't know——
The moonlight was very bright that night, and I saw more than just his tears.
I saw a clay figurine wearing the clothes of a young scholar.
I saw the Qingliu Gu family whose entire family was exterminated ten years ago, and the missing young son.
I saw him living like a clay Bodhisattva, crossing the river and ferrying people, but he couldn't cross himself.
He wanted to use me as a pawn.
He wanted to use it and throw it away.
He thought I didn't know that the package of osmanthus cake, the bottle of golden sore medicine, and those eyes following me from the dark were already beyond the scope of the transaction.
He thought I didn't know that the way he knelt among the broken porcelain and hugged the clay figure, and the way he knelt at the door of the cold palace and hugged me later, were two despairs of the same person.
He is the Clay Bodhisattva.
Me too.
Two clay Bodhisattvas are crossing a river, who crosses whom?
Purpose: People in the quagmire are also qualified to yearn for the moonlight.