"The rotting grass gives birth to flowing fireflies, and they must return to their homeland."
After several reincarnations and entanglements in the human world, it is difficult to look back on last night again after a thousand years. You are the smoke-like moon in the sky, and I am the ghost born from the withered grass in front of the grave. If falling in love is like a mirror, and meeting each other is just adding disaster, then I hope everything is just a dream, and when you wake up, it will be just like before.