Yue Lao's red string was always buried in the gap between time and space. When he pulled up the blood-colored silk thread tied at the base of his finger, he discovered that across the distance between time and space, all so-called fate was just a joke.
The remaining night, the night that is about to end, does not belong to night or dawn; it does not belong to darkness or light. It exists in the gap of time and is very self-existent. No one can confine its freedom.