Lin Shuangye had lost his memory when he woke up seven hundred years ago. He stood in a lonely place, with only his shadow on the entire mountain.
But then he saw other sights. During his seven hundred years of traveling between the underworld and the human world, he had seen towering trees, mountains made of ice, whale bones falling to the seabed to reveal their last tenderness, and things that could not tell whether they were demons or humans eating their own kind with relish. He has seen more than a hundred forms, and thousands of appearances in both worlds. He has met people who laughed and cried, and people who cried and laughed. He has also met people who are as unfortunate as him but luckier than him. This is not a contradiction. Their life experiences are equally vague, but beside that person, there is someone who will accompany him for the rest of his life.
That was something Lin Shuang could never encounter despite living at night for seven hundred years.
Until Chu Liaohan fell from the sky.
Intention: Disasters are not terrible, but rumors and doubts are terrible.