She stumbled along the banks of the Wangchuan River, its waters burbling softly, with an endless sea of red spider lilies lining the way. Their red was the vermilion mark between her brows, and the hot blood in her heart. The corners of her mouth curled slightly, her gaze cold and clear, as if washed clean by hot blood. Perhaps whether we are human or immortal, what we cannot see through is not only fate, but ourselves.
Theme:
Collected it and read it slowly. Come on.