In that life, I traveled around mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not to cultivate the next life, but just to meet you on the way.
Thousands of years ago, who held an umbrella for it in the cold, lonely rain.
Hold it in your arms.
Caress its wounds.
"White Fox, White Fox, are you alone?"
In its confusion, it just felt that this person was so warm and gentle...
So, the short-term warmth flows through the fingertips in the long years.
So, this moment of tenderness is engraved in my heart and can never be forgotten.