I remember that eighteen hundred years ago, the mortal realm too had a king without a crown.
His singing was clear and plaintive, his beauty peerless and bewitching.
But he refused to submit to Heaven, wreaking havoc in the Celestial Palace and ruining the Peach Banquet.
Once, he joked with the Tathagata. In the blink of an eye, five hundred years had passed.
Only after enduring countless trials and hardships did he finally make his way to the Western Paradise.
Having attained Buddhahood in the flesh, he had no more desires. How could their bond be called ended?
Their fated red thread still entwined them. My heaven is here in the mortal world.
