Three thousand seven hundred and twenty-one years in the Taixu calendar, autumn.
A rare red rain fell on Cangwu Mountain.
The raindrops were as fine as needles, carrying a faint smell of rust as they fell, dyeing the 3,600-level white jade steps red. The disciples of Taixu Sect stood in the corridor and looked up, their young faces reflected the crimson light of the sky. Some said it was a vision coming from the sky, some said it was a powerful being who was overcoming the calamity thousands of miles away, and some said it was ominous.
No one knows that this red rain is the end of one story and the beginning of another. And at the very beginning of the story - a young man climbed over the wall of his home.
Intention: Some people meet not to be together forever, but to leave traces in each other's lives. Traces will never disappear, even if people leave, traces will still remain.