A short story that I suddenly wanted to write late at night is about Buddha.
It's an ancient fantasy, the heroine travels through time, the background of the war, and some questions that the bored author is thinking about.
Ps: It's not a legend, at least not the upper part, the middle and lower parts are still being conceived. The author who ran away with the lid on the pot is the kind of person who enjoys digging a hole for a while and then goes to the crematorium afterwards. I don't know when Zhonghexia will be written →_→
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