Miss Yi Doesn’t Save Anyone

On the banks of the Forgotten River, eight hundred li from end to end, red spider lilies blaze like flames. Clad in crimson, she stands with the wind billowing through her clothes, a slender fingertip pinching a single lycoris. Three hundred and eighty years later, a remnant soul, famished beyond endurance, pushes open the door to the bamboo courtyard. A mountain of food, brimming with yin energy, sweeps into view, yet a few glaring words make it clear: This belongs to someone. Do not eat. Netherworld flowers drift down, old afflictions and buried dreams return. After all this time, whom do we remember? Who can say? When obsession remains unresolved, the remnant soul cannot return. A love so close, yet as deep as an abyss; a mirror's farewell to a youthful face.