Bai Yueguang, if possible, I don't want you to know all this.
After thousands of years of reincarnation, the memory that really penetrates into the bone marrow cannot be reduced by bowls of Meng Po soup. As an auspicious beast, it is regarded as evil, and everything is a cycle of cause and effect. The difference of one thought, right or wrong, good or evil, what really needs to be remembered is the unbearable gloom or the moonlight that never abandons us from the beginning to the end.
On the bank of Willow Pond on a March day, the woman named An Jiu smiled lightly, dissipating into countless fluorescent lights under the moonlight: White moonlight, these things are too dirty, don't touch them.
On the drizzle-covered old pavilion, Yinghuo, who had transformed into a beautiful young man from troubled times, was drinking wine in an inelegant manner, breaking off a branch of lily and playing with it, with a pale expression on his face: "White Moonlight, you shouldn't forget it, and you shouldn't remember it anymore."
At the edge of the Fallen Immortal Cliff surrounded by mist, Tian Xuan drank the bone-corroding water in one gulp while humming the Shui Mo tune he learned in the human world: Bai Yueguang, in fact, we have never complained about you.
Countless people, happy or sad, noisy or noisy, are wandering around. Everything that happened thousands of years ago is true or false. It doesn't matter whether it is right or wrong. Now, he just wants to protect the people he can protect, and no longer cares about the chaos in the world.