I stood under the mottled plaque of "Fusheng Pavilion", and the bronze bell beat with a strange temperature in the palm of my hand. The glass window reflects the purple color of my hair, which is incompatible with the old street with gray bricks and gray tiles behind me. \"This is the dream maker of the Warring States Warlocks.\" The shopkeeper's fingers like dead branches traced the raised gluttonous pattern on the bell body, \"Feed it with blood, and you can weave a dream for the designated person.\" Zhou Zimo at the next table pushed up his silver-rimmed glasses. , The coder's pale fingers stopped on the keyboard: "Quantum entanglement? Or collective subconscious projection?" The glass door was suddenly knocked open, and Lu Li rushed in wrapped in a black leather coat, with water droplets still on the rose tattoo on his Adam's apple. He threw off his wig to reveal his body, and slapped the medical certificate on the table: "The old man burned my case, saying that monsters can't come out of the Lu family."
Mission: Use dreams as horses to create a more tolerant world