Who was whose reflection, who was whose true love, they hurt each other in what should have been the best years, so they waited for ten years and missed ten years.
The elegant white shadow on the swing, the black figure like a hellish Shura, the broken wings, the destroyed hope, when love turns into hurt and imprisonment, the song of mourning floats from thousands of years away. The mottled silhouettes of Ling Ling and Zong Ling gradually spelled out a clear story.