Mo Caichun stayed for seven thousand years.
She can see the changes in tea smoke - straight smoke is safe, and crooked smoke is dangerous. What is at risk is the eclipse of time, the ghost that devours memories. She is the tombkeeper of the river, and she alone mends the fragments of civilization that have collapsed in the rift of time. Just make up for it without changing it, and it will be as strong as a mountain.
Until a young man named Lin Ye sat on her threshold and asked: That flower girl, will anyone remember her later?
In seven thousand years, no one has ever asked this question.
This is a novel about memory and forgetting. As for keeping it alone, let everyone remember it together. About whether forgetting is the only ending.
Intention: Not everything that disappears should be forgotten. Someone has to remember those whose names have not been left.