Slowly the breeze blows, and the birds sing and the flowers smell. But it can't compare to the blood-like dazzle of the blooming lotus~
The hatred of the fathers disturbs the leisure of the children and grandchildren. A slight overlay. A chance encounter, an old friend standing in the wind. Who doesn't know that fate is spinning at this moment. Let this intention become overwhelming.
In a snap of a finger. After all the changes. What remains, what passes away. Whose dream is it again?