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She was originally a ferry girl on the Blood River of Huangquan Wangchuan, specializing in ferrying the souls of the dead to Naihe. In order to fulfill her long-cherished wish, she gave up her duties as a ferrywoman. It is her long-cherished wish to save all sentient beings, and it is her fate to be destroyed by ashes. What kind of beautiful and infatuated love will she draw with her blood? "Ah Huang, my heart hurts so much. I am no longer with you, but I still have you in my heart!" He was born from the destruction of heaven and earth, and descended into the same lotus as her. It looks gentle and peaceful, but in fact it is indifferent and invisible, giving the world the illusion of being as gentle as jade. Massacre of the Immortal Realm, her tears, Glazed Hell, a full hundred years of purgatory punishment but no death. The blood and tears are harmonious, and they are never willing to let go. The entangled Bodhi is reborn, entangled and twisted, and they will rest until death. In the end, is it fate or luck? How will he choose between her blood and tears? "Oh, what kind of thing is kindness? I don't take it seriously yet." He was originally the flower soul in charge of the mandala, the bitter love flower on the River of Forgetfulness in the underworld. In order to fulfill her long-cherished wish, he willingly entered the devil's path and spent tens of thousands of years in loneliness, just waiting for her to save him. Lonely and cold, just like the pattern of bitterness on the left side of his face, the loneliness revealed in his eyes always makes people feel sad for no reason. Can his infatuation and stubbornness win her a relationship with him? "You can save all sentient beings, and you can save me too. Susu, I'm waiting for you to save me..." "Susu, my Susu..."

Stealing a drop of water from the Tianhe River dyes the pen tip with peach blossom ink. In the dimly lit place outside the sky, holding a Chinese star lamp, I watched the world go through vicissitudes of life and wrote the stories of mortals thousands of times. When I put down my pen, I still can't believe that there is no hatred in my eyes, and no old age in this world. The words are heartfelt and cover up a ten-year ambush. A lamp of separation and hatred, the soul has passed through eight thousand realms, the floating light has swept across the golden sands, and it has swept through thousands of directions, but has not left the human world.