"Portrait?" A voice full of joy cut through the stagnant air, and went straight into Xiwen's eardrums with a dazzling firelight. "Let's take a portrait." A young man with a sunny smile raised a beautiful curve at the corner of his mouth. With long eyelashes and a high bridge of nose, his profile is really perfect. It's just that his eyes are filled with a pool of stagnant water. "When I was seven years old, a bag of lime blinded me." He still smiled. "Since then, I can see everything - shell, mind, soul; past, present and future. Let's draw a picture." Xiwen sat down obediently. After a while, the painting was completed, and it turned out to be a landscape. Wisps of light smoke hung on the horizon. There is a person standing faintly in the glow of the sky. The bloody light of the setting sun explodes into red clouds, and the clouds fall. In the distance, the dark night spreads quietly. "Isn't this the scene just now?" When he looked up, the young man was gone. "This is a metaphor." The old man stared into the distance and slowly uttered four words.
Conception: