The plum blossoms have bloomed for ten years, and I have hated him for ten years. The prince said that he was the enemy who killed my father, so I learned a lot of skills in this pure Buddhist place just to seek revenge. Until the man in golden fur clothes walked into the hall and copied scriptures for me all afternoon - he sighed and felt uncomfortable, but my words made sense. Later I found out that he had recognized me a long time ago, just as I later found out what kind of national treasure was enshrined in the Sutra Pavilion. This thing caused several bloody turmoils, but the owner of this national treasure sat in the high hall untainted by the wind and frost. I investigated cases, traced people, and took revenge. There were also people who were tempted, suspected, and knew each other - but in the end it was all an old dream, buried in the snow.
Concept: The essence of power is loneliness, the end of compassion is letting go