There is an isolated island in the vast Western Sea. The sun shines faintly from the treetops, and the spider hangs upside down on the leaf veins, pulling out a long silver thread that rotates leisurely. This seems to be the kingdom of flowers: the lily is like a graceful woman, floating and exhaling fragrance; the peony, the sacred flower from the sky, competes for beauty without showing any weakness, as if there are countless expectations in the heart. It's like spring all year round here, and it's as beautiful as a fairyland. Bursts of sounds, the lamentation of a flock of birds, and the thunderous sound of waves hitting the rocks, made this island disappear without a trace.
Then came the legend that happened on this isolated island.