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There is a village north of the Himalayas. A young sheep herder is sitting on the edge of the snow-capped mountains playing the flute. There is a green grassland under the cliff on the top of the mountain. There is a Tibetan Mastiff with purple-black hair standing on the rock...

Perhaps from that night when the meteor streaked across his childhood, his fate was just like the crumbling starry sky, profound and terrifying. Until every day when it rains and every moment when night falls, I will stop thinking about tonight.