Years later, the old man gazed at the twinkling stars and smiled at the children gathered around the campfire. "Children, go get me a cup of hot cocoa. I want to tell you a story." "What story?" A little girl blinked her big eyes. The old man's heart stirred. He slowly took a jade pendant from his canvas bag. Its patterns shimmered beneath the starry sky. "The story's heroes are her... and me."
Snow comes from a dream, Ruoshui Qianshang, Wen Qiuhan. A candle comes from a zither, flickering and sighing time and again. Longing endures, thoughts have no bounds. A quiet moon, a lingering dream, a soul haunted. Fate begins like a lamp being lit, and ends like a lamp going out. Though the dust may fade, it is hard to forget.
A girl, once a god, lost her memories and drifted into this time and place, never to recognize him again.
A young man, once a demon, lost his demon core by a twist of fate and became an ordinary mortal, meeting her along the way.
A divine general gave in to love and hate, and fell into the mortal world.
Over decades, fate ended and began anew, amid love, hatred, anger, and obsession.
The old man stroked the jade pendant. A ring was faintly appearing on it. All of this began because of that ring...
