The beautiful encounter in front of the Buddha seems to be telling lingering stories one after another, and the erroneous encounters seem to be teasing one after another the crazy men and resentful women in the world of mortals. Whose country is it, and who is lingering in the rivers and lakes, the shadow of the candle is shaking red, in the red gauze tent, in the palace wall illuminated by a lingering red, who is lingering, who is stopping, and who is looking forward to it. Did he, who was far away in the world, ever understand her thoughts in the palace...