Fu Xiqin, who had disappeared for thousands of years, reappeared, and the peaceful world was involved in some kind of dark disturbance. The long-disappeared cult is regrouping, and a disaster is coming slowly, just like the unfortunate prophecy. The mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River are misty and enchanting. Who gently holds an ink bamboo umbrella and walks onto the Mingshi Bridge, looking like a painting in ink. There are all kinds of strange things in the world, and most of them can't be known by anyone. Just like the sleepy Chen Jin who was leaning on the bridge, he stretched out his weak fingers, with clear knuckles, and there was some kind of invisible tie. Xiao Shaoqin, who was walking slowly, paused for a moment, and finally held it gently. The people who were destined to miss each other have their fates intertwined by a strange combination of circumstances. Is it destiny or fate?