I have been praying before the Buddha for five hundred years, asking the Buddha to let us form a mortal relationship.
Maybe she has too many connections?
In the most beautiful youth, there was a cold and arrogant young man in white. For him, she was willing to lower her head, willingly drank the poisonous wine of love in the most beautiful posture, and gave up all her heart.
One is a man in green who is as gentle as jade. He waits silently for her, only hoping to win her heart.
There is also a confidant who treats her like a family member, a friend whom she has never met without fighting. . . . . .
As he grows older, the mystery of his life is revealed step by step, from being ignorant of the world to being at ease now. Every step is like walking on thin ice, like facing an abyss. If you are not careful, you will lose everything.
Where should she go?