The Fading Red Finds You at Last

In the river mist, withered lotus leaves still cling to an old vow, while she has personally stabbed an old friend into ashes.

The illusion at the bow of the boat shatters into smoke; bloodstains on the mountaintop are carved into bone

When a familiar laugh comes from the mist, is it an obsession too deep, or has the old friend never truly left?