Lin Chujian stroked the sword over and over again, watching her tender flesh become rougher and rougher. What accompanied her along the way was the worry for her father, the tenderness of her sister whom she met by chance, the indescribable tenderness, the acquaintances who drank and talked happily, and the sadness after each parting.
Finally, Chu Jian sat in a sea of flowers, gently swaying a small fan, and fell asleep peacefully in the fragrance of flowers, still dreaming about it for many years.
Intention: The love, hate, anger, and ignorance of a young girl as she grows up, and the various forms of sentient beings in the world.