When I was five years old, on a snowy night, an arrow came.
The mother pulled out the hosta and woke up the shadow.
Ten breaths, thirteen lives.
Then she told me: Go to Jiangnan and find a sister in red.
Later I became a prince.
But I didn't go home.
I took Sister Ah Zhi to the rivers and lakes further away.
My father was chasing me, my mother was blocking me in front.
They said: "Come back and inherit the throne and have children!"
I said, "No."
Sister Ah Zhi asked me: "Are you really not coming back?"
I looked into her eyes and said:
"Home is wherever you are."
Intention: In the predetermined torrent of destiny, why do the people you love carve a way out?