The seventh year after my death.
They shed tears, regretted, and were in agony. They opened the ice coffin and kissed their pale heads.
They sacrificed, cut their necks, and drained their blood.
Make a deal with the witch no matter the cost.
They pieced together my hands and feet, sewed up my broken neck, put shark beads into the empty eye sockets, dyed my white hair with pine smoke ink, covered up my scars with gorgeous clothes, and spent all the energy of the country to make a delicate and fragile puppet. They knelt in the wind and snow, begging and kowtowing to death.
Please bring me back to life.
→→→Probably some death-seeking literature, the puppet emperor after his resurrection
Purpose: True psychology should be cherished.
