Cangling Yi Zhi

The last chronicler in the world rides a thousand-year-old cloud bird and travels across the mountains and rivers to record the thoughts of the endangered spiritual beings. No villains, no fighting, no CP. No saving the world, just a tender send-off. Every time I write a line, there will be a blue line on my left wrist. Every blue line is swallowing up a piece of his memory. Young people are not in a hurry. Just hurry up and write down the tenderness that the world has forgotten before you forget it.