He was once a Mohu who practiced in Jiuli Cave for thousands of years.
He was once a Taoist who cultivated immortality on Huanyang Mountain.
As fate would have it, he met him. From then on, I couldn't extricate myself from the deep trap.
It's just because of the joke of fate, his helplessness, the entanglement of love and hate, and the promise of love for three lifetimes, which are interpreted with blood. I devoted my whole life to love, but in exchange for all kinds of helpless separation. Who let go of whose hand first? He turned around and left cruelly... Who lost whose promise? I feel sad and haggard alone...
The peach blossoms filled the sky when we met for the first time, and my heart was filled with shock.
Looking back, smiling and looking forward to the beauty, the slightest parting touches my heart.
The green shirt is stained with blood, and there are no traces of tears.
However, there is love and promise by the bridge, and the fate of the three lives is over.
...