"Manzhusawa and Manzhusawa are everywhere in the underworld, and Manzhusawa is covered with blood for hundreds of miles in the underworld."
I am sitting at the end of the Naihe Bridge with my hair full of hair, the fragrance of Manzhu Shahua lingering at the tip of my nose, and the underworld flowing beside my ears. Tens of millions of years of loneliness have made me forget where I came from. I only remember stirring the spoon in my hand every day, and offering a bowl of ten thousand-year-old soup to the dead souls crossing the bridge, erasing the pain, joy, and sorrow of their previous lives, unloading all the burdens of the previous life, and walking into the next reincarnation alone.
"Excuse me, where is this?"
There are always people who will ask me this before crossing the bridge. After a while, I no longer answer. I just smile and hand over a bowl of thick soup. Some people drink the soup in a daze and go to a new life. Some people understand that they refuse to drink the soup and cannot cross the bridge, and run away as they came...
Concept: Every second of everyone's life has meaning, just like the butterfly effect