The villagers said that he was lucky enough to survive being swept away by the flood;
The doctor said he was weird, and the blood oozing from his wounds was golden;
Only the man in black who always played the piano on moonlit nights looked at him like he was looking at a sword piercing his heart.
"Xu An." When he pronounced the name, he tasted rust on his tongue, "Do we know each other?"
The other party stroked the crack on the Jiaowei Qin: "You once used the seventh string of this Qin to strangle my throat."
As his memory recovered, Liu Xiangyuan discovered:
The cinnabar between his brows is a seal, and the jade buttons around his waist are shackles;
As for the "Blood Linglong" case that everyone is chasing in the world, the golden curse seal on the deceased's pubic area——
All carved by his own hands.
Concept: Dialectics of memory and existence, symbiosis of violence and tenderness, aesthetic reconstruction of scars, free will under fatalism