The solemn Buddha statue in the temple listened quietly to the prayers of the faithful, gazing deeply into the desires in their hearts.
"Home, I want to go home!" On a drizzly night, a girl sat alone on the grass and cried out in a hoarse voice. The safety talisman clutched in her hand was soaked through, its paper torn to shreds.
"Your Majesty, everything has been arranged." The young emperor gazed at the chessboard before him, idly turning a chess piece in his hand. Confidence and composure showed in his eyes.
"Devotee, your wish will surely come true." The respected abbot comforted the struggling believer before him, while greed glimmered in his eyes as he watched the wealth piling up in the donation box, calculating the endless profit it could bring.
In dreams, we forget we are guests; reality and dreams intertwine, and what is real and what is false drift as lightly and indistinctly as butterflies.
Dear reader, can you tell the difference?
Core theme: Any transmigration that you can't return from willingly is just kidnapping in disguise
