One summer night many years later, Gu Zhuxuan woke up from his sleep to the sound of rain. He looked out the window in confusion and dullness. Everything was silent and pitch black. He could only hear the sound of rain hitting the leaves.
Tick, tick.
He stretched out his hand and wiped his face, wondering if it was rain or something else.
He looked out the window again, suddenly feeling an eerie sense of familiarity.
It seems that many years ago, on such a rainy night, he kissed someone.
He stretched out, picked up the storybook on the bedside, and flipped through it. He picked it up on the street. It had no name, and the author had no way of verifying it. It told a story about a little Taoist priest who went down the mountain and met an immortal.
Intention: human world