People say that history can be used as a mirror to reveal the ups and downs.
But who knows, history is fabricated, dreams are fake, and only the eternal loneliness exists, spreading to everything in the world.
In a corner that is too ancient to be recorded in history, in a past that has been almost forgotten by the madman who wrote about the happy journey, in the deepest valley of Gushe Mountain, what lies are surging under the undercurrent, and what kind of glory emerges in the darkness?
And after everything, the hatred for ignorance, the fear of the aphasic crowd, and that crazy revenge, it no longer mattered to him who was right or wrong.
Only now did he realize that what he was relieved about was that the girl's soul no longer had to bear the responsibility of saving the world, but that it was in that deserted place on the top of the mountains, no longer bound by any dogma or insignificance - that graceful but majestic greatness of all things.
Yao stood on the ice of Shen Nian Lake, his beast-like palms caressing the moss-marked Jiuyin Stone. He remembered the gods he had witnessed when he held her hand on the night of worshiping the gods.
Who would believe this story? He smiled bitterly, and like a cloud shadow when the wind blew, he skillfully climbed up the highest mountain in the far north of Gushe.
"There's only one mulberry tree there, isn't it—"
"That's not true, little fool."
He finally couldn't hold back his tears. Who can believe that people from Gushe Mountain can also cry!
After an unknown amount of time, he packed himself up and leaned on the thick wooden shaft of Emperor Daughter Sang.
"I'm here to see you," he said, looking out into the distance. The warm river water in the south spread out from the river and flowed to all parts of the Central Plains.
Wanchuanchuyuan
Cangshan bears snow
Intent: A rough interpretation of Xiaoyaoyou