"There was a spirit in the beginning, and its name was Wei." He and she were the only consciousnesses that existed before the world opened, sharing the same soul core. At the beginning of creation, the world was in chaos, and the soul core was divided into two - one retained the memory of creation and 70% of the divine power, and became the way of heaven itself. The pure spiritual essence carrying love was stripped away, named "Chaos Tears", thrown into the torrent of reincarnation, and wandered for eternity.
He forgot why they separated, and only had one thought: to remember her appearance. So I peeled off my own memories to make ink, and pieced together a skeleton from the fragments of reincarnation. He didn't know that the face spelled out was the person who wrote all of this. Using the soul as the pen and cause and effect as the ink, I pick up the scattered shadows from the torrent of reincarnation, trace the eyebrows and bones, and shape the flesh and soul. When the last stroke touched the center of her eyebrows, she suddenly woke up from the world born in her own writing.
She saw a drop of ink slowly seeping into the palm lines of the immortal's body, and her fate was locked in an endless battle from then on.
The title is micro for thousands of generations, and the inkstone is returned to one person. He waited too long with the broken shadow in his mouth. Finally, the inkstone fell into the bones he had traced for thousands of years.
At this point, Yu Hua converted willingly.
Intention: Everything you create will eventually come back based on you.
This is a story about writing and being written, creating and being created. Peeling off the skin of Xianxia, the core is asking: When we devote our efforts to shaping a character, a relationship, and a world, what exactly are we shaping? The female protagonist thought she was writing about a fictional god, but she put her most secret self between the lines; the male protagonist thought she was describing a strange skeleton, but she spelled out the face of the Creator among the fragments of eternity.
All creations are self-portraits.
This is also the ultimate question of which came first, the chicken or the egg. He exists only after the heroine writes about him; she comes only after he calls her. There is no one who comes first. Two people write at the same time at both ends of time and meet in the middle.
Like all profound relationships in the world – do you shape me, or do I call you? Mother and daughter, master and apprentice, lovers, every bond is a two-way creation. You think you are passive, but without you, why would he be him?
The final message of the story is: there is no need to ask about the beginning of cause and effect. The encounter itself is the answer.