Hope
Let the orphan's withered leaves spin, entranced, in a soul chilled to the bone
Hope
Let the art of lamentation never wither amid raging flames
On the night the crow came to rest upon the window lattice
Entrust the scenes in green eyes to the dark
Then, with lightning for a pillow and starlight in one's arms,
Sink into deep sleep
Lose what was forgotten, pick up an iris
Let the underworld's smile clink glasses with the gods
Who can tell, when the bells of bitter wind and rain begin to toll,
Whether strong liquor is a purple accolade or a black gravestone?
Theme: Painter Si Qian satisfies his curiosity by fighting for his life in a horror game and scavenging everywhere, until he finally gets what he wants
