Dying the bones, forgetting the spirit of the painter, the painting is wanton, collecting the three souls and seven souls of the dead, looking at the bones through the skin, the joys and sorrows of the world are all filled with the tip of the pen. If people in the world want to get the paintings of the dead souls they love, they must pay the price of their souls. She will undergo a molt every two hundred years, and her memories will return to her soul. When the skin is shed, it is like the scorching sun burning the body, and the pain is excruciating. Only the grass on Qingyao Mountain can save it. The two-hundred-year period is approaching in a blink of an eye, but Lingshu, the guardian of Xuncao, is nowhere to be seen...
Intention: The word love stains the bones and infuses the spirit, and makes all the mistakes of the people.