The human heart is beyond a physician's ability to heal.
I am but a quack, unable to cure this festering heart.
Feiyu took human form, but had no heart. After a thousand years, an immortal granted her one. Only then did she feel the countless facets of the world and learn how fickle the human heart can be. Everyone says that the ghostly words of immortals can heal all things in time, but they don't know that a healer cannot heal themself.
Theme: In this vast, transient world, who tells the tales of things?
It feels like as I write this, the structure of the story becomes grander. Readers may be a little confused.