Flowers wither and water flow, a kind of lovesickness, two places of idle sorrow.
In the first life, you were a prince and I was a priest. But you fell in love with a witch, so I had no choice but to give up. I never thought that at the last moment, you would actually say you love me. . . .
In the second life, you were the general and I was the princess of the defeated country. I fully expected that there would be results, but I didn't expect that you only loved the king's beloved concubine and always treated me coldly. . . .
In the third life, I am the Archangel of Heaven, you. . . Who are you? What should we do with this love?
Love it or hate it. The final chapter, let's look at the fourth life. . . .