In that year, she sat in the clouds, looked at the world, and heard the murmur of the old man in brown shirt. In that year, she saw him when the winter curtain was returning to the snow. He was like a falling magnolia, as beautiful and quiet as a god or Buddha. Thirteen hundred years later, she was crawling under the flower of the other shore. Someone in the darkness said: All living beings are illusions, and everything will end in nothingness. She felt confused, and suddenly remembered that she did not die under the sword of the God of Slaughter, but died in the thorn forest where she was exiled, the wasteland in her heart.