The Chosen One: Beginning with the Reverse Inference of Daozang

(Zhe Tian Ji fan) The stream of the old temple in Xining Town has flowed for fourteen years, taking away the afterimages falling from the starry sky, but it cannot take away the clarity in the young man's eyes. When Chen Changsheng opened his eyes again, it was still at five o'clock in the morning. He folded the quilt again, washed his face, then picked up the book box that carried countless fates, and walked towards the bustling and cold Kyoto again. In this life, he still wants to cancel the marriage, still wants to go to the Lingyan Pavilion, and still wants to leave a trace of his own under the starry sky. Only this time, he walked very slowly. He planted a wintersweet in the ruins of the National Education College, just to wait for someone to smell the cold fragrance when he returned; he cooked a bowl of tangerine peel porridge on the noisy streets of Kyoto, and used the most ordinary fireworks to melt away the calculations and ice that spanned thousands of years. The world sees him as a hero because he shakes the heavens with his broken body, and the unblasphemable divinity is hidden in his spine; Old friends thought he was a boy because he would bargain for a bunch of vegetables and blow gently when his fingertips were burned. "I came to this world for a visit, not for immortality." The young man held the plum blossom oil-paper umbrella and looked back in the rain in Kyoto, smiling as warmly as jade. "What I pray for is that those who care about me can be safe every year."