I fell in love with the translator monk from thousands of years ago.
I knelt before the Buddha for him, and also for his defiance of the prohibitions of time and space.
I thought I could always impress him.
However, imagination can only be imagination. When the rebel army surrounded me, he left me and ran towards the princess without hesitation.
My shoulders and arms were stabbed with blood, and the princess's disdainful gaze fell on me like a knife.
The machine remains indifferent.
I finally understand how it is possible for an official marriage to be broken up?
He always ends up being cut in half.
And I am just a passerby.
Intention: Try harder