Ding Monian will never forget that afternoon. It was a winter dusk. The sun was slanting aside. The dust was clear in the slanting warm light. Everything was dim and yellow, like an old photo with yellowed edges, which was desolate and desolate. It turns out that there really is something that you don't want others to do, really... There is nothing you can do. He looked at her lying there in devastation, as thin as a piece of paper, with a thick bandage wrapped around her thin wrist, and the end of the bandage was firmly tied to the bedside railing. He looked at the bandage for a long time, but felt that it was falling and there would be no end. The joints of his fingers turned white, and it took a lot of strength to restrain his anger. He slowly walked to the edge of the bed, but the few steps he took were like a heavy hammer dragging him down, making his steps difficult. Ding Monian leaned over and knelt on the floor, his long and thin fingers gently caressing the bound arms and wrists, and caressing the pale and bloodless face.
…
Many years later, when Ding Monian thought back to that time, he still couldn't remember how he left. He only vaguely knew that Qiyou asked him to marry Shen Shu. If he persists and becomes a demon but becomes a Buddha, he will neither become a demon nor a Buddha. He may only suffer in the endless hell for the rest of his life.