Demining: The subject matter is very miscellaneous, the writing style tends to be male-oriented, and the literary style is not often adopted.
Eight hundred years ago.
The wind roared past time, blowing everything apart. People and things gather and disperse, disperse and gather again. In the end, they are like gravel, washed away beyond recognition by the long river of time. God? So does God. Dynasties have changed, the incense has been cut off, and many gods who were once aloof have now lost their names in the dust. Perhaps they have been completely abandoned by forgetful humans, or perhaps they are tired of seeing the joys and sorrows, birth, old age, illness and death in this world, and have gone into hiding.
Time is the most ruthless and stubborn thing. It doesn't care whether you are a human or a god, whether you are alive or dead. It just keeps rolling forward on its own, running over everything.
"Warm reminder: This article is written in the first person. If there are any similarities, please do not read it."
Intention: Wait a minute, I haven't thought of it in my head. .
